


Beasts of War and Burden

by Taste_is_Sweet



Series: Dumb Animals [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Episode: s05e04 The Daedalus Variations, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship, SGA Secret Santa 2010, Series, Stargate Atlantis Secret Santa Fic Exchange, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-13
Updated: 2012-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-29 11:26:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_is_Sweet/pseuds/Taste_is_Sweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Oh my God. We've landed on fucking Pern."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beasts of War and Burden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tarlan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/gifts).



"Yeah, they're definitely from Earth. Looks like Chuck was right," John said. He dropped the binoculars to swing at his neck, wondering what he felt about that, these new arrivals being from a place he'd thought he'd never see again and hadn't missed.

Rodney wasn't impressed at all, if the shoulder bump from a blunt snout was any indication. "Yeah, yeah, I know. All you care about is your stomach," John groused. "I'm kidding," he said to the irritated grunt. He reached up to pat the warm, lizard-smooth scales between the sky-blue eyes.

The dragon cocked its head and then blasted out a hot sigh that was as much resignation as acceptance. He nudged john's shoulder again.

"Like I'd forget," John said. He picked up the peanut butter jar that had been sitting between his crossed legs and unscrewed the cap. He scooped out a generous dollop with two fingers and held it out to the dragon. "Here." John smiled as Rodney happily slurped it into his mouth, letting out a low rumble of satisfaction around John's fingers. "Good, huh?"

The dragon rolled his eyes and John laughed. He retrieved his remarkably clean fingers and took a scoop for himself, then passed the rest of the jar to the dragon. Rodney made a questioning noise, his eyes moving between John and the plastic jar held carefully between giant clawed feet.

"Go ahead. You can have it," John said around a mouthful of peanut butter. "You need the energy more than I do. That's the last one, though, so don't eat it too fast." The local nut-butter they'd been using was pretty good, but nothing compared to machine-ground peanuts with the liberal addition of corn syrup and hydrogenated vegetable oils. John sucked the last of the peanut butter off his fingers and lifted his binoculars again, looking down at the clearing. "Definitely a ship crew," he said over the purposeful licking noises, "but I can't make out what their badges say from this distance to know which one. They've got a whole squadron of F-302s with them, though," John added. "They're planning on staying."

Rodney snorted.

"Yeah, it is stupid. Or suicidal," John agreed. "I wonder what happened to their ship." He looked at the dragon, who just gave him an eloquent shrug-and-grunt combination, far more interested in licking up the last traces of food in the jar. "I know what you mean, buddy," John said. "I don't have a good feeling about this, either." He went back to watching the large group in the clearing through his binoculars, wondering if he'd recognize anyone and kind of hoping he wouldn't. He blindly patted the shoulder next to him, which was big enough to shame a draft horse. "We're going to have to warn them, probably take them back with us, if they'll come." He flattened his lips. "I'm really not interested in having a pissing contest with a Colonel if they're not…Huh."

Rodney lifted his head, the movement making John look at him again. The dragon licked his lips with quick, catlike sweeps of his pink forked tongue and then grumbled an obvious, impatient question.

"Oh, so you're paying attention now?" John asked. He received a blast of peanut-butter scented air in reply. "God, that's disgusting." He made a face but obediently lifted the binoculars when Rodney narrowed his eyes. "It's just that it looks like the ship commander is a woman. No, I don't _mind_ ," he added at Rodney's disapproving harrumph. "It's just unusual. I haven't—holy shit." He stopped talking. One of the women in the group below had taken his entire focus. She was wearing the same olive green jumpsuit as everyone else, and John still couldn't make out the patch that would tell him the ship's name, but he recognized the curly hair even if it was tied back in a no-nonsense ponytail. And he could never forget the shape of that face.

Rodney nudged him.

John had to clear his throat before he could speak, and the lump he felt there was far more than just shock. "I'm pretty sure that's your sister," he said, voice low and rough.

Rodney went completely still, then shot to his four feet all at once, sending the empty jar tumbling. He leaned forward, wings spreading so that John had to duck out of the way. Rodney's weak, animal eyes were squinting in an attempt to focus, the large cylinders of his ears pointing as far towards the stranded ship crew as possible, trying to pick out one person in what John knew would be a featureless mass to him from this distance. Rodney inhaled like a bellows, trying to find her scent.

"She's there, trust me," John said, standing as well. "I know it's too far to see or smell, but can you hear her?" He could see Jeannie talking through the binoculars' lenses, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She looked worried.

Rodney shook his massive head. The keening noise he made was heartbreaking.

John dropped his binoculars so he could pat the dragon's thick neck, reaching as far up as possible to grip the low spines. "I know," he said softly, murmuring it with his cheek against the dragon's warm, pebbly hide. Rodney smelled of dry earth, warm and alive. "I know. I was there. I remember. I remember all of it."

The dragon sighed like a steam train.

"I know, buddy," John said. He smiled, pulling back. "But hey—that means they must be from another universe, right?" He could feel Rodney perk up as he realized that had to be the case. "And if your sister's there, then maybe…maybe nothing happened to her. Maybe they know how to fix this, or can help you figure it out."

The noise Rodney made in answer to that was unmistakably derisive, but he shook himself from sharp ears to the tip of his pointed tail. He looked at John and flicked an ear towards the far camp.

"That's more like it!" John grinned, smacking the dragon's side a few times and billowing dust. The dragon sneezed and looked at him balefully. "Hey, don't blame me—you're the one who likes to roll in it." The dragon snorted. "You wish. So, time to let these guys know they've chosen the wrong campground." John dusted off his hands, then grabbed the empty peanut-butter jar, screwed on the lid and slid it into a pouch in the dragon's saddlebags. "You want to make a grand entrance?" He winked.

The dragon huffed.

"Cool," John said.

* * *

Someone shouted in alarm and pointed at the sky.

Jeannie McKay froze and looked up the way everyone else was and then gasped in fear. What she'd ignored as just a bird when it was a tiny shape in the distance was coming closer and closer and becoming frighteningly large. When it was so close that she could see it was bigger than a horse, it suddenly curved in the air and swooped right at them.

"Oh my God," she whispered. "We've landed on fucking Pern."

It was a dragon, all right—or at least an animal that looked terrifyingly like one, despite the more rounded muzzle and the shorter neck. It was the color of sand, with bright, blue eyes that had pupils like a cat. And there was a man riding on it. He even had a saddle.

The Marines and a couple of the armed Air Force whipped up the P90s they had hanging over their backs to point them at the dragon, and Jeanine was sure they would've started firing if Colonel Sobol hadn't shouted an order forbidding it. She didn't tell them to lower their weapons though, so when the dragon came to an unsteady, stumbling landing, it and its rider were in a semi-circle of bristling weapons.

The dragon made a rumbling noise and glared at all of them with its long, sinuous tail thrashing in the dirt. The rider kept his face neutral and raised his hands. He had a gun of his own, something large and particularly menacing that Jeannie didn't recognize, but he didn't pull it out of the holster strapped to his thigh.

He was very handsome, Jeannie noticed with an unaccustomed fluttering in her chest. There were more men than women on the _Daedalus_ crew, but almost none of them interested her and the ones who did were invariably gay or taken or both. The stranger's hair was black, and longer than what the military normally allowed. Thick, unruly bangs flopped over his forehead, held only partially out of the way with a brown headband that looked hand-woven and dyed. His shirt looked handmade too, and Jeannie guessed that the tan was the natural color of whatever fibers it came from. It was almost as light as his dragon's hide. But his belt, pants and boots and the binoculars hanging around his neck were definitely military, and looked so familiar he could've bought them from an Earth surplus shop.

"Now, is that the way to greet your new neighbors?" he drawled.

"That depends on the neighbors," Sobol said, though Jeannie saw that she lowered her own handgun and went closer. She stopped out of reach of the dragon. "I'm Colonel Sobol, Commander of the _Daedalus_. We were under the impression this planet was uninhabited."

" _Daedalus_ ," the stranger murmured, and the dragon rumbled as if it was responding to it. "I'm Colonel John Sheppard," he said. He slowly pulled one leg over the back of the dragon, waited until everyone seemed okay with that, then slid the long distance to the ground, showing how his body was as lean and lithe as Jeannie had guessed it would be. "Military Commander of the Atlantis expedition," he added, in a way that made it sound like a challenge.

"Atlantis?" Sobol echoed, voicing the same shock Jeannie and everyone around her felt. "Is it here? There was no sign of anything on this planet large enough to be a city."

"That's because it's not, and there isn't," Sheppard said. He put his hand on the flank of his dragon, which, Jeannie realized, wouldn't stop staring at her. "And our _Daedalus_ was destroyed in a battle against the Ori about two years ago."

That caused another murmur to ripple through the crowd.

"We've never heard of the Ori," Sobol said. "We're from an alternate reality to this one."

Jeannie was sure that would shock him if anything did, but Sheppard just nodded like he'd only expected as much. "Yeah, we figured." He glanced at Jeannie then patted his dragon's side. "You know, it would be a lot easier to have this conversation if there weren't so many guns pointed at us."

"Of course," Sobol said. She turned to her crew. "Lower your weapons."

They did, but no one actually re-holstered them, and Jeannie was sure Sheppard noticed that, too. Sobol smiled apologetically at Sheppard. "I'm sorry…it's been a difficult few weeks. We were forced to abandon ship, and we're in unknown territory here. I'm sure you can understand that we're all on edge."

"Yeah, I get that," Sheppard said. He let go of the dragon and put his hands on his hips. "It was pretty obvious that you're not from around here, otherwise you would never have chosen this planet. The fact is, you're going to have to evacuate as soon as possible."

"What? Why?" Sobol snapped incredulously. Shocked and angry murmurs echoed among everyone else.

Jeannie looked with dismay at the medical tent she'd spent most of the day helping to set up. It would take just as long to dismantle it, and it was already mid afternoon. The still air was getting cooler as the sun slowly went down.

"Because this planet is home to a Wraith Hive," Sheppard said. "And if we knew you were here, then you can sure as hell know that they do, too." He checked his watch and grimaced. "Believe me—you don't want to be here after dark."

"What the hell are the Wraith?" Captain Mitchell demanded from somewhere behind Jeannie.

The dragon growled as if it was responding to what Mitchell said, and Jeannie realized that it had come a few steps closer to her. Its head was up and its nostrils were flaring, like it was getting her scent. She backed up a little bit.

Sheppard blinked. "You don't know about the Wraith?" He looked genuinely startled for the first time since he'd flown into their campsite. "Okay…" He licked his lips. "Here's the short version. Think creepy, gothic—"

Sheppard's attention had been on Sobol, but he stopped speaking and snapped to look at Jeannie when she squeaked in fear.

The dragon was right in front of her, staring at her with sky-blue eyes the size and shape of toy footballs. It sniffed her while Jeannie tried not to move or breathe too loudly. She could feel it snorting out thick, warm puffs of air.

"Rodney!" Sheppard barked at the dragon. "Rodney! Back off!"

"R-Rodney?" Jeannie whispered. That was her brother's name. Why would a dragon have her brother's name?

The dragon didn't listen to Sheppard. Its ears shot up the second Jeannie said its name. And then suddenly one of its massive front legs was around her waist, pulling her towards it as if she'd given it permission. It put its large head over her shoulder and held her, then started making a motor noise almost like a purr.

Jeannie screamed.

The dragon let go of her instantly, but it was too late. Mitchell let out a yell, lifted his P90 and started firing at the perceived threat.

Sheppard's cry of horrified denial was lost in the dragon's roar as bullets raked its flank. It abruptly shoved Jeannie away so that she ended up sprawled in the dirt, then it reared onto its thick back legs and snapped open its wings. Each one was large enough to belong to a small airplane.

And then it took a breath and exhaled a thick column of fire.

Jeannie gasped and turned her face from the slap of heat, even though the flame was aimed far above her head. She heard shouts of alarm and saw everyone ducking and scrambling out of the way though the fire wasn't close enough to hurt any of them.

Sheppard raced in front of his dragon. He'd pulled his large, scary gun and was firing bright red bolts at anyone aiming a weapon; the ones he hit dropped like stones.

She saw him gasp and stumble but couldn't tell where he'd been hit, and then the dragon roared again, wrapped its terrifying front paws around Sheppard's waist, flapped its wings and took off, as light and agile as a bird. The Marines kept shooting at it before it soared out of range, but Jeannie couldn't tell if they hit it again or not.

"Hold your fire! Hold your fire!" Sobol yelled. Without the competition of the dragon's voice her command rang through the campsite like the blow of a hammer. The rattle of bullets finally stopped.

"Oh my God, Oh my God," Jeannie chanted to herself, standing just enough to stumble to the nearest body. She dropped heavily to her knees and pressed her trembling fingers to the woman's neck, as astonished as she was relieved to feel the strong, steady pulse beating under the skin. "Pesquera's alive!" she shouted to Sobol. The same information was repeated by the others who had run to help with the wounded. But there were no actual wounded, they were only unconscious.

"I think they're just stunned," Mitchell said, sounding bewildered. He looked at Jeannie. "Why didn't he shoot to kill? That dragon attacked you."

Jeannie shook her head numbly, feeling jittery after the crash of adrenaline. "No," she said and then choked back a burst of hysterical laughter. "No. I think…I think it was hugging me."

" _Hugging_ you?" Sobol asked incredulously.

Jeannie nodded. "Yeah. I…uh…" She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling absurdly close to tears. It had to be just the adrenaline. She swallowed, sternly commanding herself to get a grip. "It was a misunderstanding. He wasn't trying to hurt me."

"I see," Sobol said. She looked up at the low slant of the sun in the sky, rubbing her mouth. "All right," she said loudly, addressing everyone. "Our sensor readings of the planet indicated that the Gate is northeast from our current position. We are going to evacuate. Take only the most essential items," she continued over the sounds of angry protests. "We can return later to retrieve the rest."

"Do you really believe that these 'Wraith' things are a credible threat, Ma'am?" Lt. Colonel Charles Kawalsky said. He took off his peaked cap to run his fingers through his sweat-dampened brown hair.

Sobol's eyes narrowed. "Whatever they are, Colonel Sheppard seemed pretty damned serious about us getting away from them. Do you want to wait here and see if he was telling the truth?"

Charles pursed his lips and then shook his head, looking chagrined. "No, Ma'am."

"Good," Sobol said curtly. She put her hands on her hips and looked at everyone. "We are on an unknown planet in a reality which we know nothing about. I know we just got here and we're tired, but Colonel Sheppard was adamant that we were in danger and I'm not willing to risk our lives. Now, I want Snakebait Squadron to get to their fighters. Each of you will take a crewmember and fly them to the Gate, then return for another person until everyone is evacuated." She nodded at Mitchell, who had one of the still-unconscious Marines' arm around his shoulder as he lifted the woman off the ground. "The ones who've been stunned will go first. We're going to the New Lantea Alpha Site from our reality—I think we can take the chance that it will be here and similar enough to the one we're familiar with to keep us safe overnight. I'll stay here and make sure everyone gets out. Any questions?" There were none. "Good. Go do it. Yes, Dr. McKay?" she said, turning to Jeannie.

"What about the dragon and Colonel Sheppard?" Jeannie asked. "They were both wounded. I should—"

"They flew in the direction of the Gate, Doctor," Sobol said. "I'm sure they're both in Atlantis. If not, one of the F-302s will find them on the way to the Gate and we can deal with the situation accordingly. I realize you don't believe the dragon meant you any harm," she added when Jeannie was about to protest, "but that's not what it looked like to the rest of us, and until they can prove otherwise I'm afraid we'll have to assume they should be avoided just as much as these Wraith Sheppard warned us about. "

"We attacked them!" Jeannie exclaimed. "We owe it to them to make sure they're all right!"

"After that animal attacked _you,_ " Sobol snapped. "I understand that you want to help them, but they can't be the priority right now! I have over 100 people to keep safe, McKay! You included!"

Jeannie glared at her, furious. "They're wounded, which makes them my priority. I'm not leaving this planet until I know they're at least receiving appropriate care." She turned and stalked towards the medical tent before Sobol could answer, ignoring whatever else the Colonel shouted after her. Jeannie was a civilian and the only medical doctor they had. Sobol could be as pissed as she liked, but her threats had no teeth; the _Daedalus_ crew needed her too much.

She made a mental list of what she'd need to bring. Jeannie was no xenobiologist—she didn't even have a clue if the dragon was truly a reptile, despite its general appearance—but wounds were wounds and blood was blood, and Jeannie could at least place bandages if nothing else.

She was self-aware enough to know that part of her motivation to find and help the strange beast and its rider was because Sheppard had called the dragon 'Rodney'. It might've been nothing more than a coincidence, or it could mean that Meredith was here in this universe. Jeannie was desperate to know that, even if the only thing she found of him was another grave. At least she could say she was sorry.

"Kawalsky!" The anger in Sobol's voice made it snap like a gunshot. He whirled. "Make sure Dr. McKay gets into one of those F-302s," Sobol snarled. "Stun her if you have to, but she isn't leaving here unless it's in a fighter. Got that?"

Charles looked shocked but he nodded. "Yes, Ma'am."

He came towards Jeannie, looking apologetic but determined. "I'm sorry, Doc," he said, "but you heard the Colonel. I have to get you out of here."

"Charles…!" Jeannie backed up as he advanced, feeling angry and humiliated by the awareness that Charles was two steps away from scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder like a child, and that he absolutely would. "Charles, I have to help them!"

"I'm sorry," Charles said again. There was genuine apology in his gentle brown eyes, but that didn't mitigate Jeannie's helpless rage when he darted forward and grabbed her arm.

"Let me go!" She kicked at him, but all he did was twist her arms behind her back and start dragging her with him. "God damn it! You're going to dislocate my…what?"

Charles had gone completely still; so had everyone else. "Do you hear that?"

He let her go, steadying her when she stumbled. "It sounds like…bees?" Jeannie said, wide-eyed. It was getting louder, clearly audible even above the revving F-302 engines. She looked at Charles, eyes widening. "What _is_ that?"

They turned in the direction of the noise. It looked like a giant flock of birds, a mass of black shapes with their color blotted out by the distance. But they didn't sound like birds. They sounded like insects: a loud, frenetic buzzing.

* * *

John hit the ground and tucked himself into a shoulder roll to absorb the brunt of the impact, though it still felt pretty much like Rodney had thrown him into a concrete wall. He dropped his gun because he knew it would survive the fall and having to hunt for it later was better than accidentally stunning himself. The bullet that had grazed his side was more than enough damage.

He rolled onto his hands and knees as soon as he could move again. It made him gasp in pain but he managed to shove himself upright, staggering towards Rodney and clutching his side.

Rodney hadn't crashed very far away. It looked like he'd barely managed to drop John before he'd lost strength and hit the ground hard on his chest, then skidded and rolled. The saddle with all their supplies and emergency equipment was gone. John guessed the girth had been sheared through by bullets, though he didn't remember it falling off. Rodney was lying on his side, one wing folded more-or-less correctly against his body and the other one flopping limply and trailing in the dirt. The bumps and scrapes from the rough landing were very apparent against the light color of Rodney's skin. His eyes were closed and he was very still.

"Rodney!" John dropped to his knees next to Rodney's head, grunting at how it made the pain in his side flare. He put a shaking hand on the dragon's neck, terrified he was dead, but Rodney's thick hide was still hot with the life coursing underneath, and his pulse thudded like a drum. It was too fast, but steady enough that John heaved out a breath in relief. He started stroking Rodney's neck, pressing hard the way Rodney especially liked. "Come on, Rodney. Wake up. We have to get you back to Atlantis." He slapped at his radio only to have his fingertips meet the empty shell of his ear. "Shit!" He looked up overtop of Rodney's body. It was edging to evening now but there was still plenty of light, and he was pretty sure he could make out the circle of the Gate shining in the distance and maybe the smaller forms of Ronon and Teyla as well. Rodney might be able to roar loudly enough for them to hear it, but John didn't want him to strain himself like that.

Rodney's closer eye opened to a sharp blue slit and he let out a gusting breath. John saw his nostrils move as he inhaled, then Rodney's eye widened. He whimpered in distress as he scented John's blood. He rolled up onto his knees with his wings fluttering for balance then yelped in pain from the movement.

"Hey, hey! Take it easy!" John said. "I'm fine, it's just a graze. You're the one I'm worried about. How badly were you hurt?"

Rodney ignored him. He nosed John's side.

"Ow! Hey!" John tried to push his head away, but Rodney growled. He nuzzled his way under John's shirt and poked his tongue out of his mouth. It was gooey with saliva and Rodney started lapping at John's side, coating the wound in a thick layer of dragon spit.

"Rodney! Damn it! Cut it out! You need it more than I do!" He tried to push Rodney again, but Rodney growled with something approaching real menace and nudged John so hard he fell over. "OW! Rodney!" John tried to sit up, but Rodney shifted and put one huge paw on John's chest, pinning him down like a kitten. He kept licking, grumbling as if at John's recalcitrance.

"Okay! That's enough! That's enough! _Stop it!_ " It felt distressingly like reprimanding a dog, but this time when John put his hand on Rodney's face and pushed, Rodney reluctantly pulled back. "I'm fine! Will you get it through your thick skull that I'm all right?" John grunted in frustration and heaved himself upright, trying not to feel guilty at how the bullet score barely twinged when he moved. His side was a goopy, sodden mess that still smelled faintly of peanut butter, but Rodney's spit was an analgesic and coagulant, and antiseptic enough that the Marines called it 'wound goo' and Carson Beckett was working on synthesizing it. Rodney really hated drooling into specimen cups, but he could be bribed. The Ancients were pretty much cluster fucks as far as John was concerned, but occasionally even their worst screw ups had some perks attached.

"Okay. Now that you got that out of your system—" Rodney glared at him; John glared right back, "—I need to look at your side. Can you move your wing?"

Rodney obediently lifted his wing enough to allow John to duck underneath it. The wing covered John like a tent, and he had to hold it up with one hand so he could see. He gritted his teeth, trying not to make any inadvertent noise that would show shock or fear.

There was a line of bullet holes from behind Rodney's front leg to his hip, each one trailing a thick red line that had been hidden by Rodney's wing. It was hard to tell exactly with all the blood, but John was very familiar with how P90s worked and their rate of fire, and he knew that Rodney had been hit at least fifteen times. His thick skin offered some protection, but it wasn't bulletproof. There were probably bullets lodged in Rodney's wide, solid ribs, but there were as many holes in Rodney's abdomen and John couldn't even guess how much damage they'd done. But what was horribly certain was that if Rodney didn't get back to Atlantis very, very soon he could die.

"It's not as bad as it looks," John said. He kept his face turned from Rodney so he could hide how he was lying through his teeth. "But it'd be good if you could stop the bleeding. I lost my radio, but it's not that far to the Gate—we can walk, and Ronon and Teyla will come for us if we're not back before nightfall anyway."

Rodney gave him a whine that was too pained to be incredulous, but he did lift his head and try to curve his neck and body so that he could reach the wounds with his tongue. He could only reach the ones nearest to his shoulder. When he tried to move the rest of his body he cried out and his head dropped to the dirt. Rodney's sides heaved and his wings rustled as he panted from the pain.

"Here, let me help you," John said, trying not to let his anxiety through in his voice. He cupped his hands under Rodney's mouth, glancing up at the sky as Rodney worked saliva into his palms. The sun wasn't that low on the horizon yet, and John estimated that they had maybe an hour and a half left of daylight; enough time to walk to the Gate, but Rodney's wounds had to at least stop bleeding if there was any hope of getting him there. John briefly considered leaving him and making a run for it to bring back help, but he knew there was no way he'd do it.

John had handled so much dragon spit over the months that he barely grimaced at the viscous texture or the warmth. He slapped it onto Rodney's side, using both hands to smear it over as many of the bullet holes as he could like a gory finger painting. When he'd finished Rodney's side was streaked with a wide line of red.

"That's the best I can do, Rodney. I don't want you to keep goobing and get dehydrated." John wiped his hands on his pants, leaving thick red smears. At least it looked like the wounds were clotting and Rodney didn't seem to be in as much pain. John rubbed Rodney's shoulder well above the injuries. "Can you get up?"

Rodney nodded, though John didn't like the sounds he made as he ponderously gathered his legs underneath him to stand, or how heavily his sides were heaving afterwards. It was an incredible relief that the wing that had been trapped under Rodney's body wasn't broken. The dragon's wings dragged on the ground, in mute testament to his exhaustion and pain.

John wrapped his arms around Rodney's lowered neck. "You're okay, we're both going to be okay," he murmured. "I need to get my gun and see if I can find the radio. Will you be okay for a minute?"

The irritated snort of a reply made John smile. He smacked Rodney's neck as he let go then winced as he turned too fast. The wound goo had numbed his side so much that for a moment he'd forgotten he'd even been hurt.

He found his gun almost immediately, but he couldn't see his radio and knew there was no point in wasting time searching for it. "Okay, let's go," he said as he trotted up to Rodney. He glanced at his watch, grimly pleased that they still had enough daylight, though even then they'd be cutting it close. He knew Ronon and Teyla would be trying to contact him, but even when they had Atlantis send a jumper—which he knew they would—it wouldn't help Rodney since he couldn't fit in one. And John wasn't going to leave him.

"Ready?"

Rodney nodded. John walked next to his shoulder with one of his hands resting on the back of Rodney's neck, making sure to avoid the dragging wings. Rodney's head was very low to the ground and his tail twitched listlessly behind him, sending up small clouds of dust. "We're going to have to come back for the saddle," John mused out loud. He tried to ignore the steady drip of blood down Rodney's flank; not all of the bullet holes had sealed. Rodney was blowing like a hard-run horse, but he was moving okay, if slowly, which John hoped was a good sign. "We'll have to fix the girth so it can't get shot off again. Maybe poach some Kevlar from worn out tac vests, what do you think?"

Rodney's reply was a weak puff of air, but then he suddenly stopped dead. His ears darted forward and back, trying to pinpoint a noise. His tail thrashed like an unsettled cat.

"What?" John asked, leaning close.

Rodney made a shushing noise then abruptly swung his head around so fast that John was almost pulled off his feet. Rodney growled, low and angry.

"What?" John asked again. He turned around as well but could see nothing on the horizon except the low, orange ball of the sun. He lifted his binoculars to his eyes. "Oh, fuck."

The Wraith were coming.

"It's too early, the sun's still up!" John said, protesting uselessly against the evidence of his eyes. And now he could hear the tinny buzz of their wings, still faint but constant enough to set his teeth on edge. "They shouldn't be out! Why are they out?" He could feel his heart start hammering, fear creeping like insects up his spine. It wasn't for him, though. He could still run, he would probably even make it to the Gate before the Wraith found him. But Rodney wouldn't.

Rodney let out a sharp, keening whine, turning his whole body around to face the way they'd come. He pointed with his snout like a hound.

"You mean the landing site," John said, getting it. "Jesus Christ." That many fresh lives to drain would be worth facing the last rays of the sun. "Okay…" John swallowed. "Rodney—I want you to go to the Gate. Now."

Rodney didn't move. He looked at John with his blue eyes wide and human with anguish, then turned back to face the direction of the _Daedalus_ camp. His meaning was clear.

"I know," John said. "I know. Your sister's there. But Rodney, listen." He took Rodney's head in both his hands. "Teyla will know what's happening. She and Ronon will contact Atlantis and get help, and the ship's coming anyway. But you have to go back, Rodney. You're badly wounded. If you don't get…if you're not patched up you're going to be in a bad way. You're in no shape to fight the Wraith like this. You need to go home."

Rodney licked John's face with a quick, darting slap of his tongue. Then he yanked his head out of John's hands and swung away, starting to run. His lumbering canter smoothed out as he gained speed, tail straight out behind him like an arrow.

"Rodney! No! No!" John galloped after him, gulping air and ignoring the way his injured side began to burn. " _Rodney!_ " He reached Rodney just as the dragon's wings snapped open.

John lunged as Rodney leaped into the air, but it was too late. The dragon's haunch clipped him and knocked him sprawling. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees only to watch Rodney disappear towards the Wraith swarm. They were visible without the binoculars now, and the insect noise had gotten louder.

" _RODNEY!_ " John felt like he'd turned his lungs inside out, but he knew there was no point. Rodney wasn't going to come back, not until the Wraith were gone or he was dead. John lifted a fist and slammed it into the ground. "Fuck! Fucking hell!" He lurched to his feet then ran his fingers through his hair, leaving his hands on his head as he watched his dragon shrinking into the distance. "Fuck," he said again, knowing that whatever choices he'd thought he had had just been ripped away from him.

John tore off his headband then slid his wristband off and threw them both down onto the ground. He was slightly more careful with the binoculars. The tee-shirt was a write-off anyway, but he needed the pants and boots even though John begrudged every second it took to get rid of them. He took off his dog tags and shoved them into a pocket. His hands were shaking badly enough that he nearly dropped them. John's heart was going so fast it felt like he couldn't breathe; not from fear but in anticipation of the pain.

He gritted his teeth, folded his trembling hands into fists and began the change.

His jaw was clenched so he wouldn't scream, but John couldn't help or control the whine as his body contorted and started to break. He fell to the ground, writhing in agony as his bones cracked and split, his joints dislocated then snapped into place again. His muscles spasmed and tore and reformed, ripping through his skin before it could stretch to accommodate them. Wings burst out of his back in a spray of blood, and he would have started screaming then except his skull was splitting in half and his jaw had already come apart. His tailbone lengthened, segmented and grew muscles and scales. He choked and vomited blood as his organs shifted and stretched and ruptured and were restored inside him.

Radek Zelenka had told John his theory that the Ancients had found a way to harness dark matter and use it to form flesh and bone, enough of it to change a being of one form into another of much greater mass. All John knew was that it fucking _hurt._ It hurt, and stressed human bodies in ways they'd never evolved to endure.

He always blacked out at some point—never early enough—and when the world grayed in again John was lying on his side on the ground, heaving in great gulps of air into lungs that still ached and licking the salt-metal of blood off his lips. He could smell the Wraith now, like a cloying scent of rot, and his hearing was so good he could hear the roar of Rodney's flame. He could smell the acid stench of the Wraith carapaces burning.

John rolled onto his stomach and heaved himself up onto four wobbly legs, flicking off the shredded remnants of his boxers and tee-shirt. His side was bleeding again but a few swift licks took care of it. John teetered on his feet and flapped his wings madly to keep his balance, though he nearly crashed onto his side anyway. Normally he would sleep for hours after changing, give his new body time to rest and acclimatize, but he didn't have that luxury now.

John lifted his head and roared, bellowing to the horizon. He started to move, stumbling until his muscle memory took over and he had enough control of his legs that he could walk then trot then finally run. His wings slid awkwardly on his back until he unfurled them, spreading them out to catch the wind. And then he was flying.

The part of him that was still human enough to recognize the wonder of it exulted in the rush of air over his skin, the miracle of flying without a machine. That part was always joy.

But the rest of John was dragon, and he could focus on nothing else except the sand-colored shape in the sky, the need to protect that drove him until that was the only thing in the world. It was the same need that had made Rodney embrace his sister when she couldn't know what he was, and the same need that had sent him to defend her now despite how badly he'd been hurt. It couldn't be fought or overcome, and the Ancients had built it into their war beasts to counter an animal's natural instinct to survive.

John roared again, letting Rodney know that he was coming, then sucked in a great lungful of air, feeling it heat in his chest as his body released the chemicals that would let him exhale fire. He was almost at the Wraith swarm. He could hear the frantic bursts of gunfire and the screams of the humans. An F-302 took off, guns blasting, only to be so overburdened by Wraith that it tipped and arced into the ground.

John released his held breath in a wash of fire. It hit the closest group of Wraith and they burst into flame, screaming as their wings tore and disintegrated in the heat and their carapaces blackened. They fell like ashes out of the sky to crash down on the tents below.

John bellowed in triumph then dove towards Rodney, who was hovering much closer to the ground. Wraith darted around them like enormous, deadly bees. Rodney batted a Wraith with a front paw, shredding its wings and sending it hurtling to the earth. He grabbed another in his jaws and crushed it before spitting it out. His tail lashed back and forth like a whip, keeping other Wraith away. He looked at John the dragon and his blue eyes widened. He called to John in shock and dismay, but there was no time for anything else. Not when there were only two of them and at least a thousand Wraith.

Below the dragons, bullets rattled as the humans fought the death raining down on them.

* * *

"Stay behind me! Stay behind me!" Charles shouted. He shoved Jeannie back with one hand while firing his P90 in a wide sweep in front of them. The sound reverberated around the metal hull of his F-302, so loud Jeannie wouldn't have been surprised to feel her ears bleeding. They were under the wing of the fighter, the only place that offered any kind of protection against the swarm of horrors that had hurtled into the camp.

Wraith, she remembered. These had to be the Wraith, the creatures Sheppard had warned them about. Now Jeannie wondered whether even if they had obeyed immediately, if they could ever have evacuated in time.

"They look like harpies," Jeannie said. She spoke in her normal voice but couldn't hear it above the noise of the guns and the shouts and the screams of the other _Daedalus_ crew. She was holding the handgun Charles had shoved at her, but she hadn't fired it yet. Her job was to kill any Wraith that came at them from under the fighter or from any direction Charles couldn't see. So far that hadn't happened but Jeannie knew it was only a matter of time. She only hoped her hands would be steady enough to aim. She'd preformed fifteen-hour surgeries and stayed as still as stone, but she'd never been at the point where the best she could hope for was an extra few minutes of life.

They looked like harpies, but harpies spawned from insects, not birds. They were smaller than a human and somewhat human shaped, colored bluish-white like corpses with eyes as red as precious stones. They had four gossamer wings like dragonflies and long, insect arms ending in pincers instead of hands. Their legs were segmented and chitinous like beetles. They had pointed proboscises instead of mouths, like ticks, each one flat and sharp as knives.

And like ticks, they went for anything alive.

They attacked from everywhere, plunging their blade mouths into any part they could reach. Jeannie had seen at least one person die from just the stab wound; that Wraith simply withdrew and flew to another target. The rest just…collapsed. They fought to pull the creatures off them, then staggered and fell. Jeannie had watched as their eyes went glassy with death, their breathing went frantic and then slow and then stopped completely. And the Wraith would yank out its bleeding mouth and go after someone else.

They were easy enough to kill—Jeannie had lost track of how many had exploded from Charles's bullets—but there were so many of them that it didn't seem to matter. For every dead Wraith there were ten more, a hundred. There was no end to them and soon Charles's ammunition would run out.

When she heard the roar Jeannie thought another F-302 had crashed, overwhelmed by Wraith until they forced it into the ground. A few of the luckier pilots had already made it into their cockpits and were firing their weapons into the air. Pieces of insects were falling constantly like a hideous rain.

But there was another roar, and then another, and no explosion despite the sudden, unmistakable smell of fire.

"What is that? Did Sheppard send help?" she shouted, but Charles just shook his head, as confused as she was.

Jeannie stood into a crouch, ducking under the fighter's wing. There seemed to be fewer Wraith swarming the F-302 now; she hoped that meant something good. She peeked out from under the wing only to shriek and throw herself to the ground as something huge swooped just above her, so low that the air of its passing swirled dust and slapped her hair.

Something wet and hot splattered on her head and the back of her hand, and when she scrambled up to look at it she saw it was blood. There was a dotted trail of blood like acid scores in the dirt.

And hovering above her metal refuge was the sand-colored dragon, breathing fire and tearing Wraith apart with his teeth and claws.

"Rodney," Jeannie breathed. The dragon with her brother's name. He was fighting with a ferocity that was terrifying, seemingly unaware of anything other than the Wraith, not even the blood coursing down his side. He was protecting her, her and Charles. He methodically destroyed every Wraith that came near them.

"Look!" Charles shouted, and Jeannie whipped her head up and gasped.

There was another dragon, almost identical in shape to the first save for being slightly narrower. But where the dragon named Rodney was the color of warm, dry sand, this one was as dark burgundy as red wine. Flame exploded out of its mouth and obliterated every Wraith in its path. Their screams were very human as they burned.

The new dragon roared again and then plummeted towards Rodney, catching itself with a wide thrust of its wings. Rodney made a noise that sounded unhappy to Jeannie and she didn't know what to make of that, but an instant later the wine-red dragon banked and turned, skimming so close to the F-302 that she could hear the scrape of its back claws along the canopy of the cockpit. It glided like a missile around the camp, barely two meters above the ground, picking off individual Wraith with small huffs of fire. Rodney stayed above Jeannie's F-302. It was difficult to see more than the occasional flash of wing or tail, but Jeannie could hear the nearly constant blasts of his flame. The air around her and Charles was getting hot, and all she could smell was burned Wraith. The scent was bizarrely appetizing, like lobster.

Mitchell let out a yell as he was forced to dodge out of the way of one of the dark dragon's wings, then took frantic aim with his P90. Cameron was always such a fucking hothead.

"No! No! Don't!" There was no way the stupid airboy could hear her, but Jeannie screamed at him anyway, hoping to hell she'd at least get his attention. But it was the Colonel who saved Red from the captain, tackling Mitchell to the ground just as he fired. The bullets barely missed the dragon's flank but did manage to blast two approaching Wraith into small explosions of gore.

Jeannie's shouted in relief, as much for seeing Sobol alive as for her saving Red, only to cry out in frightened surprise when in the next instant the F-302 she was under creaked and then keeled over. The wing sheltering her and Charles crumpled against the ground and Charles barely managed to yank his foot back before it was crushed.

"What's happening?" he demanded, but the F-302 creaked ominously again and they both were scrambling out from underneath it before she could tell him she was sure Rodney had landed on it.

She was right. The fighter's wing crumpled a little more, and then Rodney was sliding down it, desperately flapping his wings. It didn't help and he tumbled into the dirt, which would have been hysterically funny except for how the F-302's wing was slick with her dragon's blood, and how two Wraith had stabbed their mouths deeply into the space between his shoulders where he couldn't reach them. Rodney landed heavily on his side with a wing crumpled underneath his body.

"Oh my God! Help me!" Jeannie ran to the dragon, which had become hers in her mind as totally and as suddenly she'd named the other 'Red'. Charles stood right behind her sweeping the air with his weapon.

The Wraith were disgusting and terrifying but she was used to gore and filth. Jeannie didn't even flinch as she put her handgun right against the closer Wraith's hideous cockroach body and fired.

She'd expected the Wraith to burst apart like all the rest of them, but instead it _pulsed_ and clenched more tightly to the thick folds of skin it held in each pincer, as if to keep itself from falling off. And Rodney screamed in agony.

"Oh no!" She'd made it _worse?_ How could shooting the fucking Wraith make it worse? It was like the monster was using her dragon's body to heal the damage she'd done. Jeannie watched in horror as Rodney's head sank to the ground and his eyes went blank.

Her head snapped up at Red's screech and he came shooting towards them so fast that for an awful moment Jeannie was sure he was going to tear her apart. And then another Wraith flew into him with so much force that the dragon flipped right over and smashed into the ground. Red lay there on his back like a broken toy with the Wraith like a dagger in his chest.

They were both going to die, and there was nothing Jeannie could do about it. If a gun didn't work than a knife sure as hell wouldn't, and she didn't have any source of flame—

No. She did. Of course she did.

Jeannie shoved the handgun back into Charles's thigh holster and took off towards the medical tent, ignoring his yelling behind her. She heard a Wraith coming at her and ducked more-or-less randomly then grimaced as someone shot it and she was pelted with bluish Wraith bits. She spared a glance in the direction the shot had come from, nodding at Sobol in gratitude.

She skidded into the medical tent and immediately saw that some of the crew had used it as a refuge, but the wide rents in the canvas and the two bodies on the floor showed just how badly that had failed. Jeannie swallowed, trying not to look at either of them because she didn't have time to grieve. She ran to the portable shelves where they'd haphazardly stacked their supplies to get them out of the way with the intention of organizing them later on. Jeannie wondered absently if any of them would live long enough to do that.

"Where is it? Where is it?" she muttered, shoving aside boxes and cartons and ignoring the ones that fell to clatter on the dirt floor. "Yes!" The portable lab sterilizer had been shoved to the back of the shelf.

Jeannie snapped open the case, letting everything else fall out as she grabbed the small torch. She pulled the trigger to ignite it, grinning at the narrow triangle of blue flame. She rushed out of the tent and back to Rodney, keeping her body low though she knew consciously that it didn't make her any less vulnerable. She tried not to feel guilty for leaving Red, because he'd started the battle healthy as far as she knew but Rodney had already been bleeding. Her dragon had less time.

"Where the hell have you been?" Charles demanded when he saw her again. He was guarding Rodney, picking off Wraith with single bullets to save his dwindling ammunition. But there was a third Wraith feeding on Rodney now and Jeannie cried out, sure Rodney was dead, before she remembered that if they were attached it meant her dragon was still alive.

She ducked around Charles and held the torch to the nearest Wraith. She pulled the trigger, smiling in vicious triumph when the monster burst into flame. It clutched at Rodney's skin so hard the pincers sliced through and left wide, bleeding rents. But as she'd hoped the Wraith died too fast to use Rodney's body to heal itself. It shriveled like burning paper and Jeannie kept her torch on it until its mouth finally slid out of Rodney as it died. Rodney's skin didn't seem badly burned, which was what she'd been counting on.

"Take that, fucker," she snarled, flaming the second Wraith. She backpedaled from its thrashing, burning legs as it screamed and writhed, then moved the torch to its head to make it yank its proboscis out.

"It's working!" Charles gave her an amazed grin then dropped to his knees just in time to avoid the Wraith aiming for his throat. Jeannie tried to burn it as it flew past her. She missed, but the flame was enough to make it veer widely away from her anyway.

Even with two Wraith dead Rodney still hadn't moved, and the dirt was muddy with his blood under Jeannie's boots. Her dragon was far, far larger than an adult human, but it still seemed impossible that a creature could lose that much blood and survive. Jeannie grimly pressed the torch to the last Wraith and pulled the trigger, terrified that it was already too late.

The last Wraith's body started to blacken and contract under the heat. Jeannie gritted her teeth, waiting for the monster to die, but then the blue flame flickered and went out. She'd used up all the torch's fuel.

"No!" Jeannie pumped the trigger frantically, trying to force the machine to spit out a bit more flame, but nothing happened. The Wraith started to heal.

It was suddenly immolated. Jeannie squeaked and jumped aside, dropping the torch as she threw up her hands to protect her face. The Wraith screeched and almost instantly crumpled to ash, leaving nothing but its blackening mouth part. Jeannie flicked it out of Rodney with her fingers, then winced and shook her burned hand. Rodney's skin was red and blistered where the Wraith had been burned away by the other dragon's fire. Her poor dragon was going to be a mess, if he survived.

Jeannie threw herself to her knees next to Rodney's head and tried to find a pulse. She was a doctor, not a vet, and the only thing she really knew about the health of animals was from taking her brother's cat to the vet after she inherited her. She figured a jugular was a jugular though, so she felt for a pulse on Rodney's dragon neck the way she would for a human. She had no idea what a normal pulse would be, but she was certain that for an animal this large it would be far slower and stronger than what she felt, which was scarily fast and so weak it barely a tap against the pads of her fingers. Rodney's skin was also very cool, nothing at all like the living furnace she remembered from when he'd hugged her. He was definitely going into shock.

She was lifting his rubbery lip to see how pale Rodney's gums were when something hit her like a baseball bat in the stomach and threw her away from him. She was winded and rolling in the dirt before she knew what happened, then clutching her abdomen and trying to breathe.

"Dr. McKay! Are you all right?" It was Mitchell, staring down at her with large blue eyes. Charles was right behind him, looking just as shocked as she felt.

She was too winded to speak so she nodded and let Mitchell help her up. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve and grimaced at the smear of dirty blood on the cloth. She'd shredded the inside of her mouth when she'd rolled onto her face. Her nose hurt, too.

"Why aren't you with the dragon?" she shouted at Charles. She yanked her arm out of Mitchell's grip only to have Charles grab her instead before she could take a step.

"Get down!" Mitchell yelled before Charles could say anything and Jeannie caught a glimpse of snarling red dragon before she was flat on her back with Mitchell kind of crushing her. She could see lights flashing as they passed overhead, strangely lovely even though they resembled nothing so much as glowing yellow cephalopods. They made miniature jet-engine noises as they streaked by, obliterating the Wraith in their path like dry twigs targeted by a flamethrower.

"Thanks," she said in dull surprise. She'd thought Mitchell was just doing his usual do-something-stupid-first-and-ask-questions-never kind of things, but he'd saved her life. The glowing streak Mitchell tackled her to avoid would have likely gone through her head.

They were Ancient drone weapons, except there were no cities here, no buildings…how could there be a weapons platform with a control chair without anyone knowing about it?

And then the first Gateship swept past, leaving the air roaring in its wake. Two more followed, destroying the Wraith like chaff caught in a storm. The cavalry had finally arrived.

Jeannie would have whooped if she'd had enough air in her lungs. Instead she shoved Mitchell off her and heaved herself onto her knees, making sure the air was clear before she stood. She grabbed Mitchell's arm. "Can you contact them?" she pointed at the nearest Gateship. "We've got a lot of wounded down here, and I'm going to need—"

The world dissolved in a white flare.

"Help," she finished on a spaceship. It wasn't the _Daedalus_ ; it wasn't any ship she knew. It reminded her of Atlantis, which meant that the people she didn't recognize in the same type of clothing as Colonel Sheppard had to be Lanteans.

She looked for the other _Daedalus_ crew. Besides Jeannie and Mitchell, there was Charles looking both wary and grateful, and Colonel Sobol, who was supporting Sergeant Mehra. From the way the Marine's leg was bleeding Jeannie was sure she'd been transported away from a Wraith.

There were maybe forty-five of them all together. Forty-five out of a hundred and three. The Lanteans would have only transported human lifesigns. Living bodies.

"Fuck," Jeannie whispered. They'd managed to keep everyone on the _Daedalus_ alive through the weeks their ship had bounced randomly from universe to universe, and now more than half of them had been killed in one afternoon.

"Dr. McKay?" A man's voice startled her out of her quiet horror and she looked up quickly, smearing tears away from her eyes. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Evan Lorne," he said, smiling gently. "It's good to see you again. I just wish it were under better circumstances." He took her elbow. "We're taking everyone to the infirmary. It'll be a tight fit, but we're about five hours away from Atlantis."

She nodded, blinking the last of her tears away. Plenty of time for that later, and God knew she was well acquainted with grief. She swallowed quickly so she could speak. "Of course. Who am I reporting to?"

Lorne blinked at her. He was also very handsome, Jeannie noted absently. Maybe only the beautiful men were accepted into the military in this universe. He had pretty grey-blue eyes. "Oh!" he said, apparently understanding. "We've got Dr. Biro with us on the _Orion_. Do you know her?"

Jeannie nodded, glad that at least she'd be working with someone she knew. She tugged out of Lorne's grip so she could look around more easily, trying to get a better sense of what was happening with her crew. She noted with a mixture of relief and sorrow that only Mehra and one of the engineers had been hurt badly enough to need gurneys, and she could tell with just a glance that they were being well taken care of. She would have been happier giving the primary care herself, but she knew she'd just be in the way. Everyone else was either in good enough shape to be walking or still on the planet, dead.

"What about the dragons?" They were hard to miss because of their size, but Jeannie was astonished to see that there was no one helping them. Just two people she didn't recognize at all standing well back from Red, who was crouched in front of Rodney with his wings spread like a shield and growling. The woman was speaking to the dragon, but Jeannie was too far away to hear what she was saying. "Where's your veterinarian?" she demanded, pointing. "Rodney's in hypovolemic shock and I'm pretty sure Red burned a Wraith off his own chest. They both need urgent care."

She stalked towards the dragon before Lorne could answer, warm anger pushing aside the steady creep of exhaustion and sorrow. How could they leave them like that?

"Hey, wait! You don't understand! Wait!" Lorne jogged after her. He tried to grab her arm again but he was being too tentative and she was too mad to let him.

Jeannie shoved past the big, extremely good-looking man with the dreads and the threatening black uniform, ignoring his grunt of surprise. She turned her head to glare at Lorne. "Rodney saved my life! I can't _believe_ you would just—" the sentence broke on a scream as Red whirled on her snarling and swatted her to the floor like a fly. He slammed one of his paws down on her chest while she was trying to coax her breath back for the second time and roared right in her face. It was like sticking her head in a foghorn. His breath was dry and hot.

"Jesus Christ!" Jeannie breathed. She scrambled away from him in a crabwalk until the big guy and the woman yanked her up onto her feet, well back from the dragon. Her ears were ringing.

"He is exhausted and hurt and can only perceive us as threats to his mate," the woman explained, as if that made sense. Jeannie looked at her, and it took a second to see past the shorter hair and the gaunt lines of her lovely face, but it was _Teyla_ , and for a moment it was all Jeannie could do not to throw herself into the woman's arms.

"It is good to see you too, Jeannie," Teyla said warmly, like she'd read her thoughts.

"Yeah, welcome back," grunted tall, dark and intimidating, "but what're we going to do about Sheppard?" He jerked his chin at the dark red dragon, who was licking Rodney's bleeding side like he was trying to clean it, punctuated by short, frantic whines. "'Still say I should just stun him." His big hand rested on the butt of his large gun, just waiting for permission to use it.

"His name's Shepherd?" Jeannie asked, thinking that Red suited him better. Teyla looked curiously at her but she nodded.

"I agree that we may not have another option," Teyla said to the big guy. "But I believe we can reach him before it comes to that."

"Hasn't worked so far," the big guy said, but he kept his gun holstered.

"He's out of his mind," Lorne said. He ran his fingers through his hair. "Doesn't he realize McKay's going to die if we can't get to him?"

"McKay?" Jeannie started, thinking crazily that they meant _her_. And then Lorne's words truly registered and the electric surge of hope and shock and fear and anguish and guilt that shot through her was like chunks of ice in her lungs and she gasped then couldn't let her breath out. She only realized she'd teetered on her feet when Lorne grabbed her.

"Are you all right, Doc?" he asked her, storm-blue eyes big and worried. Everyone here seemed to know her, but she'd never met him. She was sure she would have remembered it.

"No," she said, swallowing. "That's…Meredith? That—he's the _dragon?_ "

"Yes," Teyla said, looking surprised. "That is Rodney McKay. You didn't know?"

Jeannie shook her head numbly. "I didn't," she breathed. "I didn't. I didn't. Oh my God. Meredith! Mer!" She was crying again, great, fat tears that she couldn't stop. She tried not to sob, promising herself that if she kept it together now she could have a nice breakdown later. She thought that maybe one of his ears twitched. "Mer! Mer! Please!"

"John," Teyla said to the red dragon, and the name slid together with _Shepherd_ and _Rodney_ in Jeannie's head and now she knew what had happened to Colonel Sheppard, too. Red— _John Sheppard the Dragon_ —turned his big head to snarl at Teyla over his wing before going back to licking Rodney's wounds. "John, we know that you are afraid for Rodney, but you must let us help! Please," Teyla said, stepping closer. John looked at her again. He rumbled a low growl at her but didn't do anything else threatening. "Please, let us help you both." Teyla lifted her small hand and held it towards him, palm up. "We are your friends, John. You know this. We mean you and Rodney no harm."

John was still growling, but at least he didn't lunge and snap her hand off. His slitted green eyes were glassy in a way that, if he were human, would mean he was close to collapse. He was swaying on his four feet, which reminded Jeannie very much of Meredith's cat that time she had gotten a bad cold and kept falling asleep sitting up.

And Meredith…Meredith looked like he was already dead. Blood had painted his side and belly dark red and was dripping into small pools on the floor. She couldn't even see him breathe.

"Please, John. Please don't do this. Please let me help my brother," Jeannie said. Her voice was shaking. "Mer—Rodney needs me. Please let me help him."

John turned carefully, his wings dragging. He stopped growling, but Jeannie figured it was only because he was too tired to keep it up. When he was facing them Jeannie could see the blood on his chest where the Wraith had been, though his skin was too dark to tell if he was burned. He took a step closer to Teyla, and Lorne and the big guy stiffened, but all John did was sniff delicately at Teyla's fingers. Then he swung his head over to Jeannie. She stayed perfectly still, barely daring to breathe as he sniffed her face, her hair and her neck. He lapped at her tears then snorted gently.

"I must smell like him," Jeannie said, smiling tentatively at the big dragon and wiping drool from her face. She slowly lifted her hand and carefully put it on his muzzle. "You know me, right? I'm his sister. I would never hurt him."

John exhaled hot, most air against her palm then turned away. He padded the step or two it took to get back to Rodney then didn't so much lie down as more-or-less control his crashing to the floor. He curled up so that the bulk of his body was against Rodney's front, nestled between his fore and back legs as if he was trying to keep him warm. John dropped his head onto his paws. His wings hung and his tail flipped weakly behind him. His eyes slid shut.

"Thank you," Jeannie said sincerely, her throat tight. Jeannie rushed to the other dragon to check his vitals again, carefully avoiding John. She'd been scared for the animal before, when it had been Rodney the dragon. Now that she knew it was Meredith…

"Do we have any blood product on board we can transfuse him with?" Jeannie asked Lorne over her shoulder. "Is their physiology compatible with human blood?"

She realized Lorne was gaping at her. "Wait…you're a _medical_ doctor?"

"Yes, and you're wasting time," she snapped, partially to cover the myriad of emotions Lorne's comment had just released in her. Did she and Meredith still work in the same field here? She wished there was time to ask. "Can dragons handle human blood?"

"No." Lorne shook his head. "No. And we don't have anything on board, either." He looked pained. "We didn't have time to stop at Atlantis for supplies on our way here."

"All right." Jeannie turned to John, swallowing her growing panic. Teyla was crouched next to him, petting his head and murmuring soothingly. The big guy was there too, absently patting John's stomach and looking about as lost as she felt. "I'm checking your vitals," she said to the dragon. She had no idea how much he really understood, but since he was conscious she didn't feel right just pawing him. He lolled his head to the side, allowing her to press her fingers to the pulse point at his throat. His pulse wasn't nearly as weak as Meredith's, but she didn't want to take blood from him when he was already obviously injured. Twice, she remembered belatedly. Colonel Sheppard had been shot before the dragon had flown off with him. "Is there a vet on board?" she asked Teyla. She was completely out of her depth here and she was horribly aware of it. "I wouldn't take blood from a human in this condition, and I don't even know how much a dragon needs to sustain minimal functioning." She gave a laugh that was far too close to hysterical. "I don't even know if you have large enough bore catheters!"

"We don't have a vet," Lorne said apologetically before Teyla could answer. "And our doctor who does the dragon stuff is back on Atlantis. But, Dr. Biro can help. And…" He swallowed. "And if you need dragon blood, I can do it."

"What?" Jeannie gaped at him.

He didn't answer her, tapping his radio earpiece instead. "Is Dr. Biro available? Great. If her patients are stabilized we could really use her and a transfusion kit out here for Rodney."

"Why wasn't she here already?" Jeannie asked, angry. "She didn't even check on them!"

Lorne smiled ruefully. "I'm sure she was hoping it could wait until Atlantis. She's kind of afraid of us."

"Us?" Jeannie repeated blankly, but Lorne didn't answer. Instead he knelt and efficiently took off his boots, then his socks. He was down to his pants and homespun shirt before Jeannie finally caught a clue.

"You're a dragon too?"

"Sometimes," Lorne said. "I try to avoid it." He quickly folded his shirt and put it over his boots, then dropped his socks and dog tags into one of them. John sniffed listlessly at the clothes then settled his head on his paws again.

Lorne took off his pants and folded them quickly and neatly with the rest. He glanced down at his boxers and a blush crept to his ears. Jeannie wasn't surprised when he left them on.

"Okay…" Lorne walked several steps away from them and stood with his hands fisted at his sides and his eyes tightly shut. He looked absolutely terrified, like someone about to die, and Jeannie was opening her mouth to tell him to stop when a whole body shudder passed through him. And then he started coming apart.

Jeannie stood transfixed with a hand over her mouth as Lorne's body arched and he screamed. His ribcage thickened and widened, pushing his upper body outward until the bones finally stabbed through the skin, still growing. Muscle and tendon crawled along them like vines. He fell to the deck with wings stabbing out of his back, blood coursing along the folds like water. His hands and feet burst apart like bags of flopping skin and meaningless chunks of muscle until new bone grew to connect them into huge, dexterous paws. Lorne's bones snapped like gunshots all over his body and he began vomiting blood. His skull fractured under the skin of his face, stretching it out and out until it split like paper. His eyes were crushed to pulp before they grew again. Lorne opened jaws that were still mostly bone and cried out in an agony Jeannie couldn't even fathom.

Her body moved towards him automatically, every second of her training and ounce of human instinct beating at her to stop this suffering. The large man in the black uniform grabbed her arms before she could take a step.

"Don't. You can't help him," he said. The quiet horror in his voice was an echo of her own.

Jeannie swallowed and nodded. She was crying again: a mute, useless substitute for the help she couldn't give. The man kept holding her, not confining but offering comfort.

One of the last things to grow was Lorne's tail, stretching out from his reforming haunches like an exclamation point for what he had endured. And then finally where a handsome, kind-faced man had been was a dragon, bloody as a newborn. He twitched and panted, blinking large blue-grey eyes the same storm cloud color as his new skin.

The hands let go and Jeannie managed to get as far as the blue dragon before dropping to her knees. She put her hand on his neck behind his jaw, knowing the uselessness of it but still grateful for the strength of the pulse. Now she wondered if part of Red's—John's—coloring was due to the dried blood that was surely still coating him.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry."

Lorne huffed out a weak, blood-scented breath and licked her other arm with a flick of his tongue.

John had watched Lorne's changing without making a sound, but now he whined and tried to get to his feet, only to collapse back to Rodney's side. He watched as Lorne rolled to his knees and then lifted himself up. He was as unsteady as a toddler but managed to make the few steps over to Rodney. Lorne dropped his head to John's and they exchanged snorts and John licked his muzzle once as if in sympathy.

Lorne tottered around to Rodney's back to stay out of John's way, then leaned over and did his own methodic licking of Rodney's wounds. There seemed to be almost no blood seeping out of the line of bullet holes anymore. Jeannie hoped that meant something good. She cleared this latest batch of tears out of her eyes, furious at herself for spilling them.

Dr. Biro bustled in carrying sterile bags of large plastic tubes and the largest bore needles Jeannie had ever seen. She stopped dead when she saw the three dragons and her brittle smile broke completely off her face. "Oh dear," she said.

"Dr. Biro," Teyla said warmly. She strode forward and took the anxious woman's arm. "We know you would prefer not to be here, but Rodney has lost a great deal of blood and needs your help if he is to survive. John is too wounded to do so, so Evan has assumed his dragon form in order to donate blood."

John made some kind of protesting noise and tried to stand again. The big guy pushed one of his paws lightly with his foot and John crashed back to the deck. Biro jumped and yelped, then looked embarrassed.

"You're too weak—Doc said so," The big guy said to John.

Biro was carefully picking her way towards Lorne, visibly anxious though none of the dragons had done anything remotely threatening. She glanced sharply at John's large friend in confusion. "What doctor?" she asked as she took some medical gloves out of her pocket and began pulling them on.

"Me," Jeannie said. "Dr. Jeannie McKay—from the alternate _Daedalus_. I'm a medical doctor," she explained when Biro just blinked at her. She smiled but didn't hold out her hand, since Biro needed to keep her gloves uncontaminated. "We've worked together in my universe. It's good to see you here."

"Oh, ah, likewise," Biro said. She was normally a lot more talkative, which Jeannie contributed entirely to the three dragons scaring the conversation out of her. "Are you, ah, here to assist?"

Jeannie grimaced apologetically. "Yes, except my hands are filthy. Where's the closest place I can wash them and get gloves?"

"I will show her," Teyla said smoothly. She took Jeannie's arm and smiled. "This way."

They went out of the large space that Jeannie assumed had been built just for the Asgard transportation beams, but didn't go in the direction Jeannie had assumed went to the ship's infirmary. Instead Teyla took her to a small, narrow room that was obviously the unisex head for this part of the ship.

Jeannie walked to the sink and looked around, but there were no storage boxes for disposable gloves. "I need to go to the infirmary to get gloves," she said to Teyla.

Teyla just smiled. "I'm certain Dr. Biro can perform a blood transfusion on her own," she said.

Jeannie stared before her eyes narrowed in anger. "So what did you drag me off for? That's my _brother_ out there! He needs help! He's _dying!_ "

Teyla nodded, all trace of a smile gone. "I am aware that Rodney is your brother in a different form, and that his situation is dire. But there is nothing further we can do for him until we arrive at Atlantis." She looked at Jeannie sympathetically. "I am also certain you know that you can do nothing for him right now except monitor Rodney's pulse and breathing, and make yourself ill with fear."

"So I'm meant to hide in here?" Jeannie shouted. "I can at least be with him! I can at least do…do something!"

Teyla nodded again. "I won't keep you here, Jeannie," she said. She came closer but not enough to crowd. "We'll go back in a minute. Sooner if you wish. But I think you deserve a moment to catch your breath."

"I don't need to catch my breath!" Jeannie snapped. "I need to help Meredith! I need…" Her throat hurt like someone was squeezing it, and she knew if she tried to speak she'd lose it right there in the God-damned bathroom. She shook her head and went to the sink. She yanked up her dirty sleeves and thrust her hands under the automatic tap, washing feverishly. She glared at her reflection with the dirt- and ash-smeared face and the uncontrollable hair mostly fallen out of the ponytail. She'd been stuck for weeks on the _Daedalus_ , part of the time on half rations and terrified someone would get hurt or sick and she wouldn't have the resources to do anything. But she'd made it. They'd all made it and she could handle this. She could handle this even if it felt like her life had shattered in the space of an afternoon.

Teyla didn't speak. She just gently pulled Jeannie's clean, bright red hands from the stream of water and held them, looking up at Jeannie's face. And maybe it was the simple contact or the sympathy in her eyes, but that did it, right there. Jeannie came undone in a sob that felt like it was pulled out of her bones. Teyla held her quietly in her arms while she wept, until Jeannie finally felt like she could breathe again.

She wanted to tell Teyla how the idea of Meredith suffering the way Lorne had was more than she could bear. She wanted to tell her how she'd never been more terrified in her life than down on the planet, and how she felt like a coward because of it, and how guilty she was that there were far more people she cared about only in the abstract than actual friends she'd lost. She wanted to tell her how guilty she felt about Meredith's death and how badly she wanted to see her brother again even if he could never really be the Meredith she knew, and how she didn't think she'd ever have that chance. She wanted to confess how close she'd come to throwing up after watching Lorne change, and how she couldn't believe that anyone could endure that kind of pain. She wanted to admit that right then all she wanted in the whole world was to be back in her cute little apartment in Toronto where she'd lived before Colorado Springs, and to never have heard of the Stargate program at all.

But this wasn't her Teyla either, and Jeannie had already done more than enough blubbering.

"God, this fucking _day_ ," she said, sniffling and wiping her eyes. She smiled wetly at Teyla, feeling very ashamed despite how Teyla's expression showed nothing but understanding. Jeannie grabbed some toilet paper from one of the stalls and blew her nose. "Now I've got to wash my hands again."

Teyla smiled at her. "We can get some gloves on the way back," she said. "I expect Dr. Biro will have already begun the transfusion, but I'm certain you'll want to inspect her work."

* * *

John didn't remember all that much after the Wraith stabbed him. What he did was ethereal and unconnected: the taste of Rodney's blood and the thick smell of it everywhere; keeping the others away from him until a voice drifted through the haze of hurt and exhaustion and fear and he could smell his family and knew he and Rodney were safe. There was something about blood, and the scent of another dragon (friend), and the female who made his lips curl because of how she reeked of fright. She had stabbed something into Rodney and John hadn't liked that much, but by then he couldn't even stand anymore and he was pretty sure he'd passed out while Ronon was holding him down. And then he'd woken up here.

The isolation room connected to Atlantis's infirmary was the one place in the city where they could keep three dragons. John was sure he and Evan had been transported there directly from the _Orion_. Evan was curled up next to Rodney's back just like John had woken up pressed against Rodney's belly, though he didn't remember moving there. Evan and Rodney were both still asleep.

Rodney smelled like antiseptic and the plastic Carson used to cover his hands. He had bandages where the Wraith had hurt his back, and thick black stitches along his side like a zipper track. John guessed Carson had needed to go in after every single bullet. John wanted to know how he'd done it, since there were no surgery rooms big enough for dragons. Maybe they'd used the Gate room.

John's two wounds had been bandaged, and Evan had a small bandage on his jugular that John could see when he looked at him over Rodney's back. Evan smelled very strongly of Rodney, and John couldn't control the possessive growl that rumbled out of his throat. He shifted onto his belly and slowly cleaned the surgery smells from Rodney's skin, restoring Rodney's scent to Rodney's own with an overlay of John, the way it was supposed to be. Rodney's skin was cool everywhere he wasn't in direct contact with Evan or John, and his breath was too shallow and rasping. He smelled sick. John nosed him behind his ear, whining loudly to wake him. Evan startled upright, but Rodney didn't move.

John leaned up touch noses and he and Evan snorted companionably at each other, though Evan also heard the rumble of warning that had him rolling away from Rodney before settling again with a sigh and going back to sleep.

John knew he hadn't rested enough either from the fight or the stress of the change and fatigue still weighed on him like a physical pain, but he couldn't sleep not knowing if Rodney was all right. He nudged Rodney again, then hard enough to make his whole body move. When that didn't work he bit him, gently and then less than gently. Then he shoved him with his back legs.

He didn't know he was making noise until Evan woke again and John realized he was keening loudly, unconsciously voicing his distress. John pushed himself up to his four feet and stumbled off the large gym mat, looking up into the glass-walled gallery above to find anyone to help, but there was nobody there. He was too tired to fly, so he threw his head back and roared.

Evan joined him, picking up on his anxiety. They kept roaring until Carson and a nurse came running in. Carson smelled like sleep and looked rumpled and unshaven.

"What the bloody hell's going on with you two, roaring blue murder like that?" He went to Rodney, unceremoniously shoving at John to get him to move aside. "I thought the whole city was going to come down!" He knelt next to Rodney's head, checking his pulse then his gums then lifting the slack lid of one very large blue eye. He turned on the small flashlight he was carrying and shone the beam at Rodney's iris. The pupil shrank instantly, but Rodney didn't wake up.

The nurse started doing the same thing to John, checking his pulse and doing the lip thing then blinding him with his flashlight. He ignored John's snarl and rubbed him between the eyes, grinning when John unconsciously leaned into it.

"That's better," the nurse said. John waited impatiently while the flashlight beam went up his nose and then into each ear. "Colonel Sheppard checks out fine," the nurse said to Carson.

"Good," Carson said. "Would you check Colonel Lorne, please?" He was still with Rodney. He rolled Rodney's head up to shine his light into his other eye, then used it to look into each of his nostrils and then his ears. He nodded like that was all right then carefully walked around Rodney and held his stethoscope behind Rodney's wings. John tried not to breathe since he knew that could be pretty loud. Carson was frowning and John slid his tongue between his pointed teeth and bit down to keep himself from making noise.

Beckett came back around to Rodney's front and crouched, sliding the stethoscope under one of Rodney's arms. Carson put his palm over John's mouth to shush him while he concentrated on listening to Rodney's heart. He was still frowning.

"Right then," he said. He stood and rubbed his mouth with his fingers. "How is Colonel Lorne?" he asked the nurse.

"Everything checks out," the nurse said. "His pulse is a little fast, but it's within normal range for the recent blood loss. But I don't think either he or Sheppard should change form again until they're both fully healed and rested."

"Aye. I agree." Carson nodded. He turned to face John, his expression grave. "I'm sure you already know this because of how you were screeching like banshees earlier, but Rodney's still very weak. I, ah…" He sighed and ran his fingers through his already messy hair. "I don't like the fact he won't wake up, but I know that he's not in a coma because his eyes both responded normally to light. I can only assume then that this is part of his natural healing process." He turned away to look down at Rodney, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. It's just…he's never been this injured before, and I haven't been trained for this. No one on my staff has. We need a proper vet, but we've never had one here. We'd never needed it. At the moment I'm willing to say that he's recovering, but I'll see about getting him onto the scanner in the morning. Hopefully that will show me something definite." He put his hand on John's muzzle. "I'm sorry. I know you're worried. I just wish I knew enough."

John snorted gently against his wrist, hoping that Carson would understand that it meant he wasn't angry. There was no way anyone could've predicted that they'd need someone with medical expertise for animals, no way they could've predicted the kind of desperate, insane machinations the Ancients would attempt to defeat the Wraith. It was like the tumor machine that had almost killed Carson two years ago; they were dealing with an alien intelligence they couldn't begin to comprehend or anticipate, and no one was to blame for that except the Ancients themselves.

Carson smiled wistfully. "Ah, you're a good friend, John. Even as a great, scaly beastie."

John huffed a laugh but then pulled his head away as he remembered something. He bent his head to sniff at Rodney again. He still smelled sick, but Carson hadn't mentioned it. John didn't think he knew.

He rumbled at Carson when he and the nurse started to leave, trying to figure out how to explain that something was wrong when he couldn't speak.

Carson turned, looking attentive. "Was there something else, Colonel?"

John nodded. He pointed clumsily at Rodney and whined. He tried to mimic a cough but only managed to release a tiny puff of fire.

"Something about Rodney's fire?" Carson asked, obviously confused. "Was he not able to breathe fire, down on the planet?"

John shook his head. He keened at Evan, asking him to help. Evan obediently came to where it was easier to see him. Evan sniffed Rodney as well, then turned and stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth in concentration. He poked one of his claws into the mat to puncture the vinyl then tried to write.

"What are you doing?" Carson asked. He and the nurse both came closer, watching Evan's pathetic attempt to form words. They could spew fire like flamethrowers and turn and dive like hawks in the air, but anything that required fine motor skills left the dragons as uncoordinated as babies. Evan's innate artistic skill meant nothing now, and John made a noise of dismay when all Evan managed to do was rip a large zigzag into the mat. It looked completely random.

"Oh, dear," Carson said. He looked up at them both. "Are you bored? Is that it? Because I was thinking to let you two wander again in a day or so, once I'm sure you've slept enough. But neither of you is changing back to human for at least seven days," he added sternly. "Not until you've properly healed and rested." He reached out and patted Evan on the head, smiling sympathetically. "You'll be able to draw again soon enough." He turned to leave again.

John growled loudly.

Carson whirled around with his hand on his chest. "What? What is it, man? I know that you're concerned about Rodney, and I promise that I'll see about getting him scanned in the morning. But what he needs most is rest—just like you both. You do know it's the middle of the night?"

John roared, frustration turning to anger. He put his hand on Rodney's belly and keened, willing Carson to understand. _He's sick. He's sick. I can smell it._

Carson closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "John…"

 _Listen to me!_ John tried, but the only sound he made was another incoherent roar. The physiology of the dragon he'd become was so incompatible with talking that it was like having aphasia. John still thought in linear, human language but he couldn't form the simplest sounds necessary for speech. He was sure the only reason he communicated with Rodney so well was because he knew what it was like to be a dragon. And because he'd always understood Rodney on a level that most others didn't. That wasn't going to help him now.

John started pacing, too upset to keep still. Carson had to leap out of his way before John ran him down by accident. Evan had fully caught John's misery and he started keening as well, flapping his wings a little in agitation. The breeze fanned back the humans' hair and stirred Carson's lab coat.

"Is there a full moon tonight?" Carson said. He put his hands over his ears. "Can't we go five minutes without the two of you wailing like cats in heat?" He turned to the nurse in exasperation, who was standing there looking pained. "Could you get Teyla and Ronon on the radio, please?" He shook his head in bewilderment. "Maybe they can get these bampots to stop screeching."

The nurse nodded since he would've had to shout to be heard anyway. He looked grateful to leave.

"Ach—John! John! It's okay!" Carson tried to put his hands on John's head to gentle him, but John snapped at him with a mouth full of sharp teeth. He suspected he wasn't thinking entirely rationally anymore but Rodney was _sick_ and Carson wasn't _listening_ , and John didn't need to calm down, he needed to make Carson _understand._

John needed to be able to speak.

He knew on some level what he was doing was stupid and possibly fatal, but the instinctive need to protect Rodney was raging in him and once he realized what he had to do there was no way he would stop. He shouldered his way past Carson to a clear patch of floor.

"John?" Carson said as he came closer. "John, what are you doing?"

John snapped at him again to keep him back then closed his eyes.

He could hear Carson yelling as he realized what John was going to do, but by then it was too late. John felt his friend's hands on him, probably trying to break his concentration, but he'd already begun to change.

* * *

The door slid open almost as soon as Jeannie knocked on it, and Charles stood there fully dressed in a borrowed Lantean uniform of mixed Earth gear and Pegasus homespun. He smiled ruefully at Jeannie. "Couldn't sleep either, huh?"

"Nope." Jeannie shook her head. She pushed past Charles into his room and he stepped aside to let her in. "Sorry," she murmured. She still tended to forget to be polite when she was upset or worried, and right now she was very much both. It didn't help that she was pretty sure she was wearing clothes that belonged to her obviously dead counterpart. She was just glad she wasn't shacked up in the same room. She glanced around Charles's assigned quarters, which were as clean, sparse and impersonal as the ones she'd been given. "Do you have it?" she asked without preamble. "You still have it, right?"

"Yeah." Charles nodded. He slid a hand into his pocket and pulled out the Goa'uld healing device, holding it out to her on his palm. "I made sure I had it on me when the order to leave _Daedalus_ came down."

"Oh, thank God," Jeannie breathed. She smiled at Charles in relief. "I couldn't sleep, thinking about it—how maybe you could use it to heal Rodney."

Charles's grizzled eyebrows shot up. "Rodney? The dragon?"

 _No, Rodney the accountant_ , she wanted to say, but that was rude so she didn't. "Yes, the dragon," Jeannie looked hopefully up at him. "I can't see why it wouldn't work—I know it's never been used on an animal before, but Rodney's not exactly an animal anyway, and in any case the general process of healing would have to be the same…What?" she asked at Charles's unhappy expression.

"Doc, if I use this, then they'll think I have a snake in my head. What if standard op around here is to kill Goa'uld on sight or something?"

Jeannie held herself back from snarling at him by the skin of her teeth, because he really did have a valid point. "That's true, but it's just as likely that they've never heard of the Goa'uld, just as we'd never heard of the Wraith. Or if they have clashed with them, it's also just as likely that they have the same kind of history that we've had with them. Charles…" She took his free hand in hers, looking up at his anxious brown eyes. "I understand why you're worried about this. And I wouldn't ask you, I really wouldn't. Except..." She took a breath. "Except he could _die._ Dr. Beckett said they removed the bullets and that he's fine, but he looked so weak. And—and I don't know if he's going to make it. Not without help. And you're the only one who can."

Charles pulled his hand from hers, then put his hands on his hips and looked away from her, his mouth a tight, thin line as he thought. "Yeah, okay," he said, nodding. Just like Jeannie knew he would.

She didn't actually squeal and hug him, but she did put her hand on his arm and beam at him. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," Charles said. He sighed but followed when she walked briskly towards the nearest transporter. "This is why I'm glad I never had a sister. I can't take those puppy eyes."

Jeannie smirked, despite the worry that wouldn't stop gnawing on her. "I thought you were an only child."

"Exactly," Charles said as the transporter doors closed in front of them.

* * *

"All three of the dragons were put in the isolation room earlier. I'm sure they're still there," Jeannie explained as she and Charles left the transporter and she led him down the corridor that went to the infirmary and the nearby isolation room.

"Wait, _three_ dragons?" Charles stopped to gape at her. "Where the hell did the third one come from?"

"Lieutenant-Colonel Lorne," Jeannie said grimly. "And you should be glad you were in the infirmary when he turned into one, believe me. It's like watching a horror movie in slow motion."

Charles grimaced. "I'll keep that in mind." He shook his head. "Anyone told you yet why the hell people here can turn into fucking dragons?"

"No, but that's definitely going to be the first thing I ask at the briefing." She glanced at him as they walked. "You're going to that too, right? The briefing tomorrow?"

"You bet," Charles said. "Everyone from the ship is going. It's going to be some kind of meet-and-greet thing."

"Maybe there'll be cake," Jeannie said flatly, then blinked when they came to a T-junction and were suddenly walking with Teyla and the large, good-looking guy in the black uniform. "Teyla!" she said, genuinely happy to see her. "And…um…"

"It is good to see you again also, Jeannie," Teyla said with a graceful smile. "This is Chief Specialist Ronon Dex of the Sadatan Battle Forces." Ronon gave her a friendly enough nod. "He and I are on Colonel Sheppard's exploration team, along with Dr. Rodney McKay." She looked up at Charles. "And you are another member of the _Daedalus_ , I assume?"

"That's right," Charles said, smiling warmly at her. "Lieutenant-Colonel Charles Kawalsky. United States Air Force. Pleased to meet you both."

"For me as well," Teyla said. "I wish we could speak longer, but Dr. Beckett asked us to come and help him with the dragons. It seems that John and Evan are extremely agitated."

Jeannie exchanged a look with Charles. "They are? Why?"

"They're worried about Rodney," Ronon said.

"Sure," Jeannie said. It made sense that he'd call John's friends to talk him down, though she had to suppress the ridiculous stab of jealousy that he'd never thought to call _her._ She wasn't the right Jeannie.

They were almost at the doors of the isolation room now, and the 'agitation' Beckett had called Ronon and Teyla about was extremely clear.

"Whoa—it sounds like a God damn siren," Charles said.

"That's not a dragon," Ronon said. He started running.

"Oh my God, he's right," Jeannie breathed a moment later. The other three of them had started running as well. "That's human!"

"It's John," Teyla said, just as the screaming stopped.

* * *

Jeannie burst through the isolation room doors right behind Teyla and it was like she'd just barged into hell. The dragon who was also Lt. Colonel Evan Lorne was crouched in front of Rodney, wild-eyed and shaking from head to foot. Beckett was on his knees, shouting for an emergency team into is radio. His pants were soaked from the pool of blood surrounding Sheppard's body. He glanced up when they came in and his eyes looked exactly like Lorne's.

"What happened?" Ronon barked, but there was no time to answer him.

Jeannie dropped to her knees in the sickeningly warm blood, thinking _Airway, Breathing, Circulation._ The three basics of field emergency care. Make sure the patient could breathe, keep them breathing, and make sure the oxygen could get to the brain.

 _Airway first,_ except she only found Sheppard's mouth when he hiccoughed up a gout of pink froth. He had what could have been part of a muzzle instead but there was so much blood it was hard to tell. His whole body looked like he'd been taken apart with a jigsaw and then put back together wrong. There were chunks of unnamable flesh and bone littering the floor around him like missing puzzle pieces, as well as what was obviously part of a wine-red tail and a pair of beautiful, crumpled wings.

And he was pouring blood like a river, from gaping wounds all over his body. His ribs were too large, warping his chest on one side and on the other piercing right through. One of his legs had a dragon's paw dangling wet and red where most of Sheppard's foot should have been, but nothing had grown to replace it. Blood was pumping out of his back where his wings had sloughed off.

"Incompatible with life," she whispered. She'd learned the term in med school. It was a precise, clinical way of saying this was how someone would die.

She looked at Beckett and saw her own horror and despair in his eyes. He knew there was nothing they could do to fix this the same way she did. They couldn't operate on a body this damaged; she didn't even think they could move him onto a gurney without killing him outright. John would most likely die by the time the emergency medical technicians even arrived. There was no way he'd survive long enough to get him to the stasis chamber.

She looked at Charles. His eyes were far too big and his face was white, but she didn't have to say anything. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the healing device.

"Stand back, Doc," he said to Beckett, his voice was so rough that if it hadn't been for the terrible quiet she was sure no one could have heard him.

"Move!" Jeannie ordered when Beckett just stared at Charles. He startled but that got him out of the way.

Charles concentrated, and light poured out of the ornate red stone in his hand.

"What are you doing?" Ronon demanded, but Teyla put her small hand on his wrist and it kept him from moving.

"I believe he is trying to help," she said quietly, looking at Jeannie for confirmation.

Jeannie nodded. She was still across from Beckett, still kneeling in Sheppard's blood, but she was close enough to see the dazzling light engulf Sheppard's body and how the steady, fatal flow of blood slowed and then stopped. His body slowly reformed into its human shape, bones retracting gently into accommodating muscle and skin. The awful, gaping holes where there had been paws and wings and tail closed and the flesh grew back smooth and whole. Sheppard's chest rose and fell with strong, even breaths.

Charles stopped the beam, and Beckett paused his gaping long enough to check Sheppard's pulse. "God almighty," he whispered. His eyes were liquid with relief and he looked at Charles in awe. "That's a Goa'uld healer! How did you get that? How the bloody hell could you _use_ it?"

Charles slid the device carefully back into his pocket with hands that Jeannie noticed were shaking. "It's kind of a long story, Doc," he said. There was sweat on his forehead and his next step wobbled.

Ronon caught and steadied him until Charles nodded. "Just took a lot out of me," he explained.

"It's a miracle," Beckett said.

"You have given us more than we can ever repay," Teyla said to Charles. "Thank you." She pulled him into the Athosian's ceremonial embrace, touching his forehead to hers. Instead of placing her hands on his shoulders she cupped either side of his head.

As soon as she stepped back Ronon hugged Charles like a bear.

Jeannie grinned and looked back at Sheppard to see him blinking open his eyes.

"Hi," he said uncertainly, looking up at her. He rolled his head over to Beckett, who fixed him with a ferocious glare, and then Sheppard looked at everyone else. "Did something happen?"

"Did something _happen?_ " Beckett repeated. His jaw twitched, like he was so angry he couldn't actually get the words out. "Do you see that blood, Colonel? All of it?" he asked with low, deadly calm. "That's from your body not closing up the places where your dragon parts fell off. There wasn't enough left of you to even stitch together." He abruptly lurched to his feet, as if he was too furious to keep still. Blood trailed from his pant cuffs onto the red toes of his boots. "I was watching you _die_ , John." He gestured sharply at Charles. "If it wasn't for this fine man here I'd be telling Elizabeth to plan your funeral! How could you be so fucking stupid?"

Lorne let out a small growl, and Beckett turned to scowl at the big blue dragon almost right behind him. "Ach, don't you start now!" he admonished.

"Rodney's sick. I tried to tell you but you weren't listening," Sheppard said. He slowly levered himself upright, then looked down at his body and grimaced. He was all but completely covered in blood. "Jesus. I look like Carrie on prom night." He finally seemed to remember that he was naked, and tried to squirm into a position that would show as little as possible.

"Mer's sick?" Jeannie stood but before she could move or Sheppard could answer, the door to the isolation room banged open and two of the infirmary staff ran in with a gurney. They both stopped dead at the astonishing amount of blood.

"It's all right, the situation's resolved," Beckett said quickly before either of the two women rushed Sheppard, who was looking far more embarrassed now than hurt. "Colonel Kawalsky needs to be taken to the infirmary for observation, as does Colonel Sheppard, if you could please send another gurney for him. Oh." He pointed at the wrapped thermal blanket on the gurney. "Could you give that here, please?" He caught it deftly when it was tossed to him and ripped it open, frowning at the streaks of blood he left on the plastic. He unfolded it with a crinkle and unceremoniously dropped it on Sheppard. "Here."

"Thanks," Sheppard said. He quickly wrapped himself in it so at least most of his body was hidden, though there was nothing he could do about the blood staining him from head to foot. Lorne came closer and started licking his hair.

Beckett ignored the gratitude. "I didn't understand you, so you damn near killed yourself?" He stared at Sheppard then shook his head as if he was disgusted. "What do you think I was listening to the poor beastie's lungs for? I know he's ill! There's nothing I can do about it! You know as well as I do that we've no medicines that work for Rodney—or did you forget that along with what I'd just told you about not changing back 'til you were properly rested?" He shook his head again, but this time he just looked sad. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want to worry you when all we can do is keep him warm and comfortable and let it run its course. I should have. I'm sorry. I should have known you'd be able to tell. But what you did…!" He bit back whatever he was going to say with obvious effort, glancing at the emergency team.

Sheppard tried batting Lorne away a few times, then just sighed and let him do what he wanted. "I'm sorry," he said seriously to Beckett.

Beckett just looked at him for a moment longer then turned away, going to Jeannie. She'd left the small circle to kneel by Rodney and she looked up worriedly when she saw Beckett next to her.

"He feels cold," she said. "Is that a normal response to illness? Or is that due to the loss of blood volume?"

"It's more likely the blood," Beckett said. He moved to put his hand on her shoulder but then saw how red it was and put his hands in the pockets of his already stained lab coat instead. "Rodney's strong, and the dragons heal fast anyway. I think all he needs is time."

Jeannie nodded, wishing she could believe it. "I asked Charles to come here with the healing device because of Rodney," she said. "That's why we were just outside." She wiped her hand on her pants then stroked Rodney's broad forehead. "Charles needs to rest before he uses the device again, but I hope he'll be able to help Rodney with it." She didn't say how worried she was that Rodney would deteriorate in the meantime; normally Charles needed at least a full day to recover from using the device, sometimes as much as two. But he'd never healed anyone as badly messed up as John had been. She had no idea how long Charles would have to rest after that.

"Me too," Beckett said. "But right now let's not borrow trouble. I'm sure Rodney will be up and about on his own in a day or so." He cleaned his hand on his coat then held it out to Jeannie, who let him pull her to her feet. "Since you're awake anyway, would you care to help me with the physical exams? I want to make sure Sheppard and Kawalsky have come through this intact." He looked down at himself and made a face. "Though I think we could both do with a change of clothes first." He threw Sheppard another glower as he went out the door, though he stopped long enough to give Charles a big, genuine smile. "I'd shake your hand, but I doubt you'd want Colonel Sheppard's blood all over your uniform," he said, pointedly enough that there was no way Sheppard could have missed the extra dig. "Please take both these men to the infirmary," he reminded his staff. "I'll be back in ten minutes." He smiled at Teyla and Ronon. "You both should get some sleep. I'll be allowing Colonel Sheppard visitors this afternoon, if you'd like to come by and see him. But before that he'll be _resting_. He gave Sheppard one last nasty look and stalked out of the room.

* * *

John opened the doors to the isolation room and quietly slipped inside, being careful not to bang the tray he was carrying on the door.

"Hey," he said softly to Jeannie and raised a hand in greeting.

Jeannie was sitting on the floor curled against Rodney's hip on his uninjured side. She gave him a weak smile but put down the tablet she was looking at and patted the material next to her in clear invitation.

John smiled his thanks and went over to her. She took the tray so he could sit and he leaned against Rodney's shoulder. "Teyla said she hadn't seen you at lunch, so I thought you might be hungry," he said, gesturing at the tray. "You—I mean our Jeannie—had hypoglycemia. I don't know if you do, but I figured it'd be safer just to bring you something."

"Thanks," Jeannie said, mouth quirking. "I don't have hypoglycemia, though. I have epilepsy instead. I think the McKay family gets screwed in every universe they're in."

"Yeah, that sucks," John said. He picked up his own sandwich and took a bite. They'd been able to do a lot of trading with different worlds once Atlantis had been accepted into the Sataden Alliance, but so far none of the domestic fowl tasted enough like turkey to keep John from missing it. "I'm surprised you were asked to join the Stargate program with epilepsy, though," he said after he'd swallowed. One thing he'd learned after living with a dragon was how little he enjoyed seeing semi-masticated food. "No offense."

"None taken," Jeannie said. "To tell you the truth, it surprised the hell out of me, too, but Dr. Beckett had to drop out of the program suddenly and he recommended me as the best replacement. His mom got sick," she explained, probably guessing that John was going to ask. "But by then I hadn't had any kind of seizure in over a decade anyway. I haven't taken medication for it in nearly that long."

"Cool," John said. Considering his Atlantis had taken Rodney as their chief scientist despite his allergies and erratic blood sugar, it made sense that even epilepsy wouldn't be a dealbreaker for hers.

"Yeah. I've been lucky with that." She lifted up a corner of her sandwich and grinned. "You knew I'm a vegetarian!"

John shrugged to hide how pleased he was. "Well, our Jeannie was, so I thought it'd be a good bet."

"Well, thank you," Jeannie said. She picked up the sandwich and took a big bite.

He opened the thermos of local almost-coffee he'd brought and poured some into one of the cups. He settled back against Rodney and sighed happily as he took a sip.

Rodney's head lifted. He sniffed the air and then craned his neck around so he could all but jam a nostril into John's cup.

John laughed. "I thought that would get your attention." He put the cup carefully on the floor and slid it closer to Rodney so he could comfortably drink it. Rodney made a tired, happy noise and lapped delicately at the almost-coffee, holding the cup still between two long fingers. John rubbed Rodney's shoulder, grateful to see him like this. Rodney had been dead to the world for nearly three days after his ordeal on the planet as his body healed and fought the growing infection in his lungs. John had been scared Rodney wouldn't wake up again, but the dragon had finally hauled himself back to consciousness early that morning. Rodney was still sick and miserable, but he was aware and moving and that was really, really good. Even better was Carson's certainty that Rodney was out of the woods.

"Are you sure you should be giving him that?" Jeannie was watching Rodney dubiously.

John shrugged, slouching against Rodney and so damn happy to be able to feel the warmth radiating from the dragon's skin. It was still cooler than it should have been, but definitely better than the icy cold when he'd lost so much blood. "Carson didn't say I couldn't. Besides, he's way too big for that small amount of caffeine to affect him."

"That's true," Jeannie conceded. "I was just worried it'd be like giving a dog chocolate or a cat Tylenol."

"Naw." John smiled at her to show he got her concern. "Rodney can eat everything we can. He just eats way more of it. Not that that's much different from when he was human…" He grinned at Rodney's insulted harrumph and patted his flank. He thought maybe he should lay off on the teasing, but he was so glad he could get any reaction from Rodney at all that he couldn't really help himself.

John turned back to Jeannie. "You know, I don't think I really thanked you for that healing thing," he said, feeling awkward. He never knew how to do this right. "So, you know, thanks."

"You're welcome," Jeannie said, absently petting Rodney's back leg. "I wish it worked on Rodney, though." She sighed.

"Me too," John said. "I guess it was just made for humans."

"Sorry, Mer." Jeannie said to Rodney. "I was really hoping you'd be all better by now."

Rodney whined and gently brushed Jeannie's leg with his tail.

"You need to thank Charles, though," Jeannie said to John. "He's the only one who can use it. I'm actually pretty astounded they let him out of the mountain."

"Yeah," John agreed. He petted Rodney some more. "We're lucky they did."

"Yes, you are," Jeannie said.

"Sorry," John said.

"You should be," Jeannie said. "That was…" She shook her head and took another bite of her lunch, chewing determinedly.

"I am, believe me," John said seriously. He smiled wryly. "I was locked in the infirmary for nearly seventy-two hours, and Carson still isn't talking to me."

"I've seen animal maulings that weren't that bad," Jeannie said. She poured herself a cup of non-coffee and gulped it despite the heat. "I can't believe anyone would do that to themselves."

"Can we not talk about it, please?" John said. He was feeling guilty enough already, and irritated because of the guilt.

Rodney growled.

"Knock it off," John groused at him. "You weren't even awake."

"You brought it up," Jeannie said, and John was about to protest how very, very much he _hadn't_ , when Evan pushed his way into the room. He and Rodney did the mutual face-sniff-and-lick thing in greeting then Evan threw a catlike glower at John as he thumped over to the mat behind Rodney. He flopped down with a sigh of the extremely put-upon.

John blinked then looked at Jeannie. "What's his problem?"

"Beckett isn't letting him change back to human for at least another week after this one, because of what happened to you," Jeannie said. She took another drink of the coffee substitute. "To ensure that Evan's body will be healthy enough to handle it."

"Oh," John said, wincing. "Sorry, buddy."

Evan grunted. His tail thrashed a few times, thumping angrily against the mat.

"Jeeze," John muttered. "You already goobed all over my head. Cut me some slack, here."

"I think I've figured out why I'd never heard of you before we arrived in this universe," Jeannie said. She took one last bite of her sandwich and neatly brushed the crumbs off her fingers. "You probably pulled some other kind of suicidal stunt and didn't live long enough to become part of the Atlantis mission."

Rodney whined.

"I'm right here, Rodney," John said, reaching up to rub behind Rodney's ears. The worst part was that Jeannie was probably right. "What else is different about where you come from?" he asked, wanting very badly to change the subject.

Jeannie looked puzzled, but then said, "Oh, right. You weren't at the briefing." She broke off a piece of the muffin he'd brought for her and chewed thoughtfully. "The Wraith don't exist in our Pegasus. Or at least we've never come across any reference to them, in either of the forms Beckett spoke about." She shuddered. "They were bad enough as they were—I can't imagine how terrible they would have been as humanoids. I don't understand why Beckett's so guilty about it."

"I'm with you on that," John said. "They can be deadly like this if they swarm, but they basically owned the galaxy before Beckett created the retrovirus. But the plan was to make them human, not like this. He's still pretty torn up about how he turned an entire sentient race into mindless bugs."

"That's stupid," Jeannie snorted. "Teyla told us how they considered the people of this galaxy to be nothing more than animals for food. They killed every single one of her people except her, and then chased her around the galaxy for seven years just to get their jollies! How could Beckett feel bad about stopping that?"

"Hey, no argument here," John said. He scratched Rodney's side, smiling at Rodney's pleased noises. "Who are your bad guys?"

Jeannie made a face into the remnants of her drink. "I don't know what their name for themselves is, but the locals call them 'Grey Death'. We've only met their soldiers, who are big, ugly bald guys with grey skin and surprisingly weak armor, though there are so many of them that I guess they don't mind the casualties."

"Whoa," John said. "Do they eat people?"

"Nope." Jeannie smirked. "They're just your average come-see-conquer guys. We've been holding them off pretty well overall, but the concern of course is that they're going to decide to come pillage the Milky Way instead." She put another bit of muffin into her mouth and ate it silently, looking pensive and sad. "I don't know what happened to Ronon's people—it's possible they never existed in my universe—but the Athosians have fought them for generations. Teyla's one hell of a warrior. I wish I could know how the fight's going."

"Why'd you become a doctor?" John asked. He'd hoped that talking about herself would cut the unhappiness that had settled across her features, because he never knew how to deal with that. But instead she just looked sadder, and he was pretty sure he'd made it worse.

"Originally, I was going to be an astrophysicist, like Mer," she said. "That was his middle name, by the way. He always preferred 'Meredith' over 'Rodney'." A tiny smile curved her lips. "He liked the idea of being a Sea Lord, which is what the name means. He would've loved Atlantis."

"He didn't go?" John asked. Rodney rumbled his own amazement.

Jeannie shook her head. "He died," she said simply. "But, uh, it was partially my fault." She swallowed. "A few years before it happened we had a big fight. I mean, a _big_ fight. Because, ever since we were little kids, we'd promised each other that we were going to both become scientists, the kind who got to be astronauts. When he decided to go into astrophysics _and_ engineering, I was going to do it too. He went to the States to get his PhDs and I was going to follow him. We called or emailed each other almost every night, always talking about our classes, or what new theory he'd come up with or how easy everything was." She smiled. "I worked my ass off to graduate high school as quickly as he had, because I'm eight years younger and I didn't want him to get too far ahead of me, eh? But by the time I got to university he was already consulting for the SGC, working on an infinite power source that would tap into other universes. I knew about it because I was helping him. Just a little bit, but I was working out some of the theories for my thesis. I think it was mostly just a way for him to keep in touch with me, more than anything."

"That was nice of him," John said.

"Yeah, it was." The little smile quirked her mouth again and she tucked some long, curling hair behind her ears. She picked up the muffin but just handed it to John. "Could you pass that to Rodney, please?"

John nodded, wordlessly removing the last of the paper and holding it out on the flat of his hand, but Rodney only sniffed it and then dropped his head. John shrugged and put the muffin down on the tray. "What happened?"

"One night he called me out of the blue and told me he'd fallen in love with one of the other scientists and he wasn't going to work at the SGC anymore. See, the woman he'd gone head over heels for was a captain in the Air Force, and she was trying to make her mark to get into the Stargate program. Mer got worried that if he kept working with her she'd end up in his shadow and she'd never get to do anything. So he quit. He gave her his part of the work on the alternate reality drive and just left. He was going to start a dot-com company and Captain Samantha Carter was going to get the glory and the Stargate and they were going to live happily ever after. He was always doing stuff like that—helping people even when it didn't do him any good. When I told him he was being an idiot he just said that Carter wanted it more than he did, so that was it."

"Wow," John said. "That's pretty different." Rodney grumbled his agreement and John patted him as he listened.

Jeannie nodded. "I wasn't even out of my teens yet, and I'd been working my whole life for this, to make world-changing discoveries with him. Only to have him abandon everything. And I felt so betrayed. I wouldn't speak to him after that."

"Yeah," John said. "Our Rodney had a kind of falling out with his sister too." He smiled thinly. "Seems to be a McKay thing."

Jeannie didn't quite smile back. "Like the lousy genes. What happened with your Rodney?"

"Our Jeannie decided to break up with her fiancé because she thought being free to pursue science was more important. Rodney got really, really pissed at her for giving up her life like that. They didn't talk for a couple years, until they were both sent to the Ancient outpost in Antarctica. Since they were forced to work together, it ended up with them being able to bury the hatchet. They were really close by the time we all left for Atlantis."

Rodney nodded. He turned his head and flicked John's ear with his tongue, thanking John for telling the story he couldn't. John cleaned his ear but patted Rodney's side again in acknowledgement.

"I wish I'd had a chance to make it up to him," Jeannie said quietly, "but he died before I could. I wasn't there so I only know what the report said, but Carter got special permission for him to go off-world. It was meant to be a vacation, just something fun. But some kind of insect stung him and it must've been enough like a bee that he had a serious reaction to it. She used both his Epi-pens and dragged him back to the Gate, but it wasn't enough. He died in the Gateroom."

"I'm sorry," John said. He couldn't stop himself thinking of his own Rodney like that, dying as John tried desperately to get him home. It was chilling. "But what happened wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was," Jeannie said. She tucked more hair behind her ear. "Before he left, Mer asked me to come. He was hoping it could be a 'family' thing, with the three of us. He told me how badly he wanted me to meet Samantha and how much he wanted her to meet me. And he wanted so badly for us to be friends again. I didn't even answer the email. And then he died. And I know that if I'd gone, if I'd just gotten over myself and been there, then maybe Carter and I could have gotten him back in time. Maybe I could've stopped him getting stung at all."

"You can't know that," John said.

Jeannie shrugged. "I'm a scientist. Our whole world is probabilities." She scratched Rodney's hide next to his hip, keeping her eyes on his sand-colored skin as she talked. "For months afterwards, all I could think about was how that didn't have to happen, how if maybe there'd been some better remedy than a lousy shot of adrenaline, or if he'd inherited a different set of genes like I did, then he wouldn't have had a fatal reaction in the first place. So I went back to undergrad and did an accelerated medical program and became a doctor." She smirked a bit when she hit a particularly itchy spot and Rodney sighed in approval. "But I still wanted to go to other planets, so I made sure I was one of the best in my field so I'd be recommended for the Stargate program. And then when the Atlantis mission was being assembled, Carter chose me."

"Wow," John said. Then, "Carter? You mean, the same Samantha Carter who your brother fell in love with?"

Jeannie smiled bitterly. "The very one. Despite Beckett's referral, it took a long time for me to be certain that Carter wasn't just…I don't know, trying to assuage her own guilt about Mer's death by choosing me to be the Chief of Medicine. And I still hadn't forgiven her for not protecting him better, and for making him leave the Stargate program in the first place."

"So why did you go?" John asked.

Jeannie shrugged again, and her smile became sad. "Mer would have wanted me too." She went on before John could reply to that. "And about three months ago, when Carter was finally able to complete the work Meredith began on the alternate reality drive, I volunteered to go on the _Daedalus_ mission to test it. And here I am." She smirked mirthlessly. "We were only meant to be gone three days."

"Guess you never saw this coming, huh?" John asked. He passed the last quarter of his sandwich to Rodney since he'd only been picking at it anyway. "Not hungry, buddy?" he asked when Rodney didn't even lift his head to sniff it. John put it back on his plate. It was unusual for Rodney to refuse food, but he'd drunk all the coffeeish stuff so John was determinedly not going to worry about it. "You know we're going to try to send you back, right?" he said to Jeannie.

She nodded. "Yeah. Dr. Zelenka and Dr. Weir promised as much. But honestly, I don't really care. I mean, I'm not exactly the most social person. It's hard for me to make friends and most of the people I've had to work with I haven't liked anyway. The only person I'm really going to miss from my universe is Teyla, and she has a husband and new baby, as well as plenty of other friends and relatives, so she doesn't need me. Colonel Sumner was fine but he wasn't exactly known for his sterling personality. And Carter…" She sighed. "Well, I tried to be her friend, for Mer's sake, but I wasn't very good at it. And everyone else were just, colleagues. You know."

"Yeah," John said. He knew exactly how that felt. Until he'd agreed to come to Atlantis, everyone he'd given a damn about was dead. "Well, I can't speak for Dr. Weir, but I know that we could sure use you. We could use everyone from the _Daedalus_. When the Ori attacked Earth our _Daedalus_ was bringing back a lot of expedition members who'd gone on leave, plus some new recruits. The last we ever heard from Stargate Command was them telling us the ship had gone down under enemy fire. We haven't been able to communicate with Earth for two years now, and we've been short-staffed here for at least that long, especially with the military. It's been hard to keep up our obligations to our allies when we don't have the bodies to do it with. And we could really use you in the infirmary. Carson's good but part of our agreement with the Alliance is for him to go treat patients elsewhere in the galaxy and to train other doctors, so he travels a lot. And Biro…" He laughed. "Well, I think she gets along better with dead people. It'd be great to have you."

Rodney snorted in a way that meant he was ticked off and abruptly sat up on his haunches so that John fell backwards. "Ow! Hey! What'd you do that for?"

Rodney deliberately walked around him and then curled up again, this time tightly around Jeannie alone. He leaned in and licked her cheek.

John crossed his arms and glared at him, then saw Rodney's heavy sigh and relented. "That was his subtle way of saying that we've missed you, too. All of us. A lot. We know you're not exactly the same Jeannie, but…"

"A difference that makes no difference is no difference?" Jeannie quoted.

John nodded vehemently, happy she'd gotten it. "And I guess you feel the same about Rodney, huh?"

"Yes I do." Jeannie reached up to put her hand on Rodney's neck. She beamed at him. "You have no idea what this means to me, that I've got my brother back. We just need to figure out how to make you human again, eh?"

Rodney snorted.

"We will," Jeannie insisted quietly. "I promise."

Evan ambled over, sniffed the tray and promptly snapped up the rest of the muffin and sandwich. He yawned and stretched, spreading out his wings until his shoulders trembled before tucking them neatly to his side again.

Jeannie reached out and made kiss-up noises and John was sure Evan would snort at her in indignation, but he walked right over and dropped his head so she could rub between his eyes.

John arched an eyebrow. "What have you been doing to my CO?"

"Nothing!" Jeannie hid embarrassment about as well as Rodney did. "I've been practically living in here while you slept off your near-death experience—it wasn't like I was just going to ignore him! Besides…" she shrugged in a complete lack of nonchalance. "He's a beautiful dragon. And he's nice."

Evan gave John a dragon version of a very smug grin. Rodney just rolled his eyes.

"It wasn't a 'near-death experience!" John said to Jeannie, annoyed.

She arched both her eyebrows at him. "You'd prefer, 'total death experience'?"

"I'm sorry!" John snapped. "I'm really, really sorry. I made a bad decision that seemed like a good idea at the time and I nearly died. I get it. Could you stop rubbing my nose in it already?"

Jeannie raised her hands. "Fine! Fine. I'll stop reminding you about how you came within seconds of drowning in your own blood."

John scowled at her.

"But only if you tell me about the dragons," she said quickly, unrepentant. "The real story, I mean. Everyone else just goes all shifty-eyed and says that it was an accident and that's it. And I can't help thinking that I—that your Jeannie—fucked up beyond all redemption and that this is all her fault." She looked away, concentrating on petting Evan. "And I need to know if it was her fault or not. And if I know what happened, then maybe I can figure out how to fix it, so no one will have to end up like you did again."

John rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't really like taking about it either. It was…bad. A really fucking bad day." He straightened up. "But you got it wrong. You—I mean our Jeannie—" he corrected quickly, "didn't do anything. No one did anything. It just happened."

Jeannie looked at him wide-eyed, her hand still on Rodney's neck. Evan lay down beside her so she ended up kind of wedged between the two dragons and John was absolutely not jealous about that. "'It just happened'? How?"

"The way these things always happen," John said with a thin, flat smile. "Because the fucking Ancients never left warning signs." He hesitated, trying to figure out the best place to begin. "It wasn't…it was just regular Atlantis exploration stuff. Rodney had found a reference to a 'secret lab' in the database that we thought might've belonged to Janus. He was kind of a rogue Ancient who built a lot of great stuff including a time machine," John explained. He waited for Jeannie's nod and continued. "We'd already learned the hard way that it's a really, really bad idea to just wander into unknown labs, so this time we were going to play it safe. Evan came too, as well as four military personnel. Rodney brought two other scientists—Dr. Miko Kusanagi, and…you."

Jeannie nodded. "The astrophysicist me."

"Yeah," John said softly. "You and Rodney figured out how to get the hidden door open, and we went in. And I swear that's all that happened. All we did was go through the fucking door."

Evan made a small, unhappy noise like he was remembering.

"I went in last," John said. "And I don't know, maybe my natural ATA gene triggered it, or maybe it was me, Evan and Kusanagi, like three was the magic number or something. But there wasn't even a noise or a flash of light. Nothing. No warning at all."

"You all just turned into dragons?" Jeannie asked, and John realized he'd stopped speaking and that he'd been staring at nothing.

"Sorry," he said, swallowing. "Yeah. Pretty much." He glanced at Rodney, who had his head canted on his paws, his eyes unreadable. "I think I might've started changing first. I don't know. It was really hard to tell what was going on. It just…it felt like I was being torn apart, one little bit at a time. Everyone was screaming." He kept his eyes on the ripped part of the mat where Evan had tried to write words, because he couldn't make himself look at anyone else and keep talking. "The first thing I really remember was the smell of blood. It was everywhere, and I was still in so much pain that I was sure we'd set off some booby-trap and we'd all been blown up. I tried to get up, but my legs wouldn't work right, and I couldn't really understand what I was seeing." He held his hand out in front of his face with his palm turned towards his eyes. "Bigger head, differently-placed eyes, so my perception was off. It took a while to get used to it. I tried to radio for help but I just ended up stabbing myself in the face. And I was trying to find everyone else by what they looked like, but all I could see were these big animals covered with blood."

"That must've been terrifying," Jeannie said.

John nodded. "Yeah." He'd been terrified out of his fucking mind, but he didn't think Jeannie needed to know how badly he'd lost it, how close he'd been to just giving in to sheer animal panic and fleeing the way a couple of the others did. "Teyla helped me figure out what'd happened." He meant that Teyla's voice, her scent which he hadn't even noticed before but still recognized was what had kept him sane for those terrible first moments when the only thing that made sense was how much he hurt. "I was the first one who figured out how to move." Which was also because of Teyla, who had ordered him to work with his new body instead of trying to escape from it. "So I was there when the others started getting up and we all finally realized that we…that something had happened to us.

"I tried to find Rodney, but Ford—he's an Air Force lieutenant, one of the guys Evan brought—attacked me first."

Jeannie looked shocked. "Why?"

John shook his head. "I think he was just acting on instinct. Like a part of him knew that the ATA gene had to be responsible in some way, and I'm the one who's always had the easiest time with Ancient technology. So with the way he was thinking it made sense to tear my throat out and make it stop. It's very hard to think beyond what's happening at any given moment," he tried to explain. "And it's even harder to control impulses, or think things through. It wasn't Aiden's fault."

"Is that why Rodney hugged me out of the blue like that?" Jeannie asked, "even though I had no idea who he was?"

John nodded. "And that's why he went to help you, even though he'd already taken fire."

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Jeannie murmured.

John nodded again, hoping it meant she finally understood the reason he'd gambled so badly with his life three days before.

"So what did you do?" Jeannie asked.

"I went ballistic," John said. He tried to make his voice normal, but he was sure she could hear the layer of guilt. He'd been more rational than Aiden at the time; he should've been able to keep his shit together. But instead he just… "I really don't remember how the fight went, but Ronon told me later that I tore a strip of skin off his side as large as a human arm, gouged right down to the muscle. I would've killed him if he hadn't run. Aiden threw himself into the nearest window, smashed right through and kept going." John smiled, wistful and sad. "Kusanagi escaped right behind him. They just flew away."

"Wait…you mean they never changed back?" Jeannie was gaping.

"Nope." John shook his head. "At least, no one's found evidence of it. I've seen them on the Mainland a couple times. We leave them care packages about every two weeks with food, blankets, that kind of thing. They won't let us get near them, but the last time we checked up on them they seemed to be healthy and happy. We can't tell for sure unless they'd sit still for a full medical exam though, and no one can get close enough for that. "

Jeannie stared at him. "But, why didn't they come back for help? I don't understand."

John shrugged. "No one does. We don't know if they lost their humanity completely, or if they're still sentient like Rodney and just decided not to come back, or what. I do know that Miko and Aiden had taken being cut off from the Milky Way pretty badly. Maybe they're happier as dragons."

Jeannie shook her head. "I can't imagine that."

John glanced at Rodney, but Rodney's eyes were closed. John knew he was awake only by the twitching of his ears.

Evan let out a pointed sigh that was directed entirely at John.

John ignored it. "I guess you figured out that only the people with the ATA gene changed. That's why Ronon and Teyla and one Marine are still okay. There was another one—Captain Vega—who survived the change as well, and Ronon kept her from following Kusanagi. Teyla got to Evan and he was okay. Jeannie…" John had to look at the mat again. "Jeannie and Lieutenant Walsh died."

"I'm sorry," Jeannie said.

John nodded again. "Me too. We still don't know why the others lived and they didn't, and at this point it looks like we probably won't be able to figure it out. They both had artificial ATA genes instead of natural ones, but so does Aiden and he came through it okay. But Walsh and Jeannie just…stopped changing. They didn't have enough of either a human or animal body for anyone to resuscitate."

"Oh, God. I'm so sorry," Jeannie said. She petted Evan's back, just watching her hand on his blue hide. Rodney nudged her side gently and she started petting him again as well. "What happened to Mer?"

"Rodney survived the change. Barely," John said woodenly. He just wanted to get this over with. "He didn't wake up for days, and he kept coughing or passing blood, like things hadn't finished knitting inside him. Even after he woke up it took a couple weeks before he was strong enough to even walk around, and nearly another month before he could breathe fire or fly." John grimaced at the mat. "By then Evan and I had figured out how to change back, which wasn't pleasant. Well, you saw what it looked like when it didn't work." Jeannie nodded with wide eyes. "The difference between what happened and when it does work is only slightly better, in that you can actually survive it." He smiled grimly. "Though for a while there I didn't really want to."

Jeannie looked between Evan and Rodney, no doubt thinking of the two other dragons having to go through what John had just described. "There's no way to make it easier?"

John shook his head. "Not that we've ever figured out. All we've been able to find out for sure is that going from dragon back to human is worse, because of having to cope with the huge loss of mass. And we learned that the hard way when Vega tried to become human again two days after the first change, and she died. The way I would have," he added, because he was sure Jeannie would mention it if he didn't. "But the longer you wait between changes, and the healthier you are, seems to make a difference. At least, Carson made Evan and I wait a month, after Vega. And we made it to human again without…well, we didn't die, anyway."

"I see." Jeannie nodded. She pulled absently on Rodney's nearer ear and he grumbled and flicked it away. "So, Meredith has to stay like this for his own safety."

Evan grunted a negation and Jeannie blinked at him.

"Maybe we should've done that, stayed as dragons to be safe," John explained, "but that's not what happened. Rodney did try to change back, about four months after we'd been fucked over by the lab. Maybe it's because of his ATA gene, or maybe he'd stayed as a dragon too long. But it didn't work. He couldn't do it."

"What?" Jeannie exclaimed. "Oh, no!" She all but threw herself at Rodney, twisting her body around to hug him without breaking her spine. "Oh, Mer! I'm so sorry."

Rodney whined at her and dabbed his tongue at her leg, which was the only part of her he could easily reach.

"Yeah," John said quietly. "So…that's why he's still a dragon."

Jeannie let go of Rodney and settled back into her dragon-pocket between him and Evan. She sighed, though John was very happy to see she wasn't actually crying. "So, how long has he been like this?"

John cleared his throat. "Going on a year and a half."

Rodney let out a tiny, miserable bark as if in confirmation.

"A year and a half?" Jeannie parroted. "Oh my God!" She put her hand over her mouth, staring at her brother. "A year and a half," she repeated then glared accusingly at John. "And in all that time, no one's tried to fix this?"

"Of course we've tried to fix it!" John glared back at her. "Radek goes into the lab practically every week, trying to find the 'reverse' switch for the fucking thing! We've been scouring the damn database for whatever the Ancients might've left on transformations or dragon-creatures or anything remotely useful. You've been in Atlantis, you know what it's like trying to do research here!"

Rodney growled at her and pulled himself up so Jeannie had to let go of him. He went back to John and curled up around him the way he had with Jeannie. John tried very hard not to show how smugly pleased he was about that.

"Looks like I've been told off," Jeannie said, wincing.

"We'd never just leave him like this, Jeannie," John said.

Jeannie nodded and took a breath. "Right. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," John said. He stroked Rodney's neck and Rodney closed his eyes again. "Why don't you go to sleep, buddy?" he asked him softly. "It'll help you get better."

Rodney sighed and John felt the rolling in his muscles as he settled. John kept petting him as Rodney's breath slowed and evened out. He and Jeannie stayed quiet like that for awhile, just petting the dragons. Evan fell asleep again as well, with his ear twitching gently against Jeannie's thigh.

"Makes me want to take a nap," Jeannie said, grinning.

"Tell me about it." John grinned back. "I should get back to work, though."

"Wait," Jeannie said as he was shifting to stand up. "Can I ask you something?"

John nodded, though her question made him instantly wary. "I might not answer it."

"Teyla said Mer was your 'mate'," Jeannie said. "What does that mean?"

John grimaced uncomfortably. He felt himself bristling despite how guileless the question seemed. "He really prefers 'Rodney'."

"Right. Sorry," Jeannie said. She pursed her lips. "I'll try to remember that."

"Rodney and I have been together for two years," John said.

"Oh," Jeannie said, and John wasn't sure if she was more shocked at what he'd told her or the fact he told her at all. "That's…I wasn't expecting that."

"Is this going to be a problem?" John tried to not actually snarl it at her. In his chest his heart began tapping in a quick, unpleasant rhythm.

"No!" Jeannie said with gratifying speed. "No, really. I'm just a little surprised, that's all."

"Because I'm a man?" John asked not quite acidly.

"Because you're not blond and blue-eyed," Jeannie said. She shrugged. "Mer—I mean Rodney—always had a thing for blonds."

John smiled, thawing a bit. "Our Rodney was crazy about redheads."

"Redheads." Jeannie chuckled. "I can see that." She petted the sleeping Evan some more, but she was looking at Rodney. "Does that mean you two started dating or whatever after you lost contact with Earth?"

John nodded. "Our second anniversary is next month, actually."

"Oh," Jeannie said. "Well congratulations. That's…" She stopped, her wistful smile turning into a look of alarm. "You said Rodney's been a dragon for almost a year and a half."

"Yeah." John nodded again. "We found the lab about six months after we lost contact with Earth. And no, before you ask," he added with ice in his voice, "I haven't been with anyone else since."

Jeannie blinked. "I wasn't going to ask," she whispered. She looked at Rodney and swallowed. "So, I guess…you haven't—"

"No," John snapped.

Jeannie's eyes widened. "Not even when you're both…um…" She made a vaguely flapping gesture with her hands.

John stared at her. "You don't seriously expect me to answer that."

Jeannie shook her head quickly, going red. "No, of course not. I'm sorry."

John looked at her then let out an explosive breath and ran his fingers through his hair. "Look. I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to take your head off like that. It's just that I've heard all the jokes, you know? And they weren't funny the first hundred times."

"I get that," Jeannie said. She smiled again though it was uncertain. "You're a good boyfriend."

John shrugged. "He'd do the same for me."

Jeannie moved around so she was lying with her back propped up against Evan's side. Evan twitched but didn't wake up. "A year and a half," she said again. "God. I think I would've killed myself." She seemed to realize what she'd said and made a face. "I mean, I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't practice medicine."

"Yeah," John said. "That part's been really tough. I mean, Rodney's still all there, you know?" He tapped the side of his head. "He's still Rodney. But he can't think about things the same way he could as a human. He can't do more than simple math, and Radek's made him a kind of big keyboard thing so he can type stuff, but he has problems with putting his thoughts into words. It's like, everything's in there, but it gets lost on the way out." He spread his hands helplessly. "That's the best way I can describe it."

"That must be terrible," Jeannie said.

"Sometimes," John said. He leaned against Rodney the way Jeannie was leaning on Evan, feeling Rodney's sides move as he breathed. He really did have work to do, but he wasn't ready to leave. "We try to include him in whatever we can anyway," he said. "He comes to all the staff meetings." John laughed a little "And he definitely lets everyone know his opinion. And he goes on all the missions with my team, even if it means we have to switch with other teams because he might freak the locals out or he can't fit somewhere we'd need to go." He smiled, thinking of it. "He definitely makes one hell of an impression. And I know for sure we made one trade deal because he let the headwoman's kids ride on his back." He made a mental note to find out about making a Kevlar girth for Rodney's saddle, since the _Orion_ had gone back and beamed up all the abandoned equipment from the Wraith planet, including the saddle and John's clothes. Even with their trade network any kind of gear was too precious to leave behind.

"I would've loved to see that!" Jeannie said. "He was probably terrified they'd fall off."

"Oh yeah." John chuckled. "I'm sure he wanted me to duct-tape them into the saddle."

"That part must be so cool, though, being able to ride dragons," Jeannie said. "Do you think Rodney would let me ride him?"

"Evan's got a saddle too," John said, and then grinned when Jeannie blushed to her ears.

* * *

"I can't believe you're talking about staying here as if it's a done deal," Colonel Sobol said. She took a sip of tea and wrinkled her nose. "You signed a contract! And Atlantis— _our_ Atlantis—needs you. Would you seriously consider leaving the expedition without a Chief of Medicine?"

"Of course not!" Jeannie insisted, though she couldn't help the quick burn of guilt that flared through her stomach. "But Dr. Biro is there already, and the newest recruit, Keller, should be there by now, too. Either woman is more than qualified." She sipped her own tea, wondering what Sobol didn't like about it. The leaves had come from one of Atlantis's many trading partners in this galaxy, and while the taste was surprisingly sharp. Jeannie thought it was pleasant.

"Yes, but they're not _you_ ," Sobol said. "Dr. Weir all but made an oath to us that her people would do everything in their power to help us get back to our own universe. And when that happens, I expect you to fulfill your obligation."

"She does have a point, Ma'am," Charles said. He was drinking the local substitute for hot chocolate, which was the beverage where Jeannie drew the line, since the only thing it really had in common with hot chocolate was the 'hot' part as far as she was concerned. But Charles seemed to love it. "This expedition really needs us. They have no way of getting new personnel to Atlantis, especially not anyone with the kind of training you need to live in this place. Maybe we should consider that."

"They have a planetful of Sadatans and dozens of allied worlds, all with people they could train, if they're so concerned about personnel," Sobol said. She took another sip of her tea then frowned and pushed the cup away. "They've been doing fine so far. They don't even have a major threat to contend with in this galaxy. We do."

"The Ori sound like a pretty big threat." That was Mitchell who was sitting sprawled in a chair at the end of the table, with his legs splayed out like some kind of pornographic invitation. "If they get this far the locals will be in for a hell of a fight."

"Which, if Earth is anything to go by, they probably won't win," Sobol said. "I'm not being callous," she said to Jeannie's shocked expression, "I'm being realistic. If we stay, chances are we're going to end up embroiled in a war that we'll lose."

"There's no guarantee that the Ori will get this far," Jeannie said.

"No guarantee they won't," Mitchell said. He looked like he'd enjoy it.

"Speculation on the future movements of an enemy we know nothing about is pointless," Sobol said. "The fact is, we don't belong here and we should be thinking about going back, not staying."

"They probably already think we're dead," Mitchell said, shrugging. "It's not like I've got anything to go back to."

Jeannie looked at him witheringly. "What, you were hatched from an egg?"

"Just your average orphan child of the foster system, Ma'am," Mitchell said with a big, toothy smile so bitter Jeannie could practically taste it. "No ties."

"Except to the United States Air Force, Captain," Sobol said. She sat up straight and put her hands on the table, clasped together like a single fist. "You're actually threatening desertion."

"Hey, hey—let's all take it easy, all right?" Charles said. "We're just talking here. We're allowed to talk, right?"

"It's possible that they'll never be able to build another anti reality drive," Jeannie said, hating how much she hoped that would be true. "Or even if they do, we travelled through over forty universes to get here. We might not be able to find ours again."

"It took ten years for Colonel Carter to build it in the first place," Charles said.

"I realize that," Sobol said. "But the drive wasn't a priority. Carter only worked on it ad hoc. I'm sure we could build a second one much faster with the right resources, especially as we were able to bring the specs with us from the ship. We also have personnel who can work on it full time."

"Only three engineers survived the Wraith attack," Jeannie said quietly. "Would any of them even be qualified to undertake something like this?"

"Possibly," Sobol said. She looked straight at Jeannie. "But I definitely know you're qualified to work on this project."

"I'm a medical doctor," Jeannie snapped.

"But you _were_ an astrophysicist," Sobol retorted. "And I doubt you've lost very much of that. And with the specs for the drive available, you'll have a considerable advantage."

"And then we go home," Charles said. He didn't sound all that thrilled about it, either. He was staring into his mug of not-chocolate, but he looked up at Sobol. "You know Weir promised me a Gate team?"

"Me too!" Mitchell said, grinning hugely.

Sobol all but rolled her eyes. "Of course she did. Don't you realize she'll promise you anything to make sure that you stay? Charles, do you really think they'll let you off base now that they know what you can do with the healing device? And Cameron," she said, looking at Mitchell. "You barely scraped your way to captain. You're not leadership material and you know it. Weir just threw you a bone to make you stay, too. "She paused. "No offense."

"None taken," Mitchell grit out, and for the first time ever Jeannie felt a little sorry for him. His brash impulsiveness had annoyed her since she'd met him on the _Daedalus_ , but it'd never occurred to her that it had actually been a detriment to him. A deficit, rather than a quirk he thought everyone else thought was cute. "But maybe Weir's gonna give me a chance here when no one else did, Ma'am." His smile was hard. "No offense."

"I just don't want you to be disappointed, Cameron," Sobol said, with enough condescension in her tone that Jeannie winced.

Mitchell's leg started bouncing and he glared at Sobol with such ferocity that it reminded Jeannie of the dragons. He opened his mouth, but seemed to control himself with an effort. "Yes, Ma'am. Thank you, Ma'am," he said so tightly Jeannie thought his voice might snap.

"I know just how valuable I am because of the healing device," Charles said. "But it's safer here right now than Atlantis is in our universe." He grinned. "I think I'd be in less danger on a Gate team here than I would back in our Atlantis with those ugly grey bastards dropping in all the time."

"Which is why they need you there!" Sobol said. "Your skills—both tactical and healing—are vital!"

"I think we're getting a little ahead of ourselves here," Jeannie cut in as Charles was shaking his head. She put her elbows on the table and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. The view through the windows of the mess was nothing less than spectacular, showing Atlantis like a glorious fairytale under the nighttime stars. Jeannie wished very badly she could just get up and go out onto one of the balconies, but that would be rude and she'd promised herself she'd be nicer to people when she was accepted for the Atlantis mission. "Even if we could rebuild the drive—and in all honesty without Carter or Meredith that's probably a bit of a long shot—what if the problem isn't with how the drive was built, but some flaw in the whole theory behind it? It might be that this whole conversation is moot, and we're well and truly stuck here."

Sobol's lips thinned, but Charles spoke first. "Well, Meredith's right here, isn't he? He still seems pretty smart, maybe he can help."

"He prefers 'Rodney' in this universe," Jeannie said with a small smile. "But no, he can't help us like this. Jo—Colonel Sheppard told me that dragons don't have the mental capacity for complex tasks."

"So, why can't we change him back?" Mitchell asked. He shrugged. "Sheppard does it all the time, right?"

Jeannie was tempted to glare at him, but remembered his recent treatment by Sobol and softened her expression. "It's not that simple. Remember how they said at the briefing that Sheppard, Evan—Colonel Lorne—and Rodney became dragons by accident?" She waited until Mitchell nodded. "Well, Sheppard explained that it happened when a group of Lanteans went into a particular laboratory. Everyone with the ATA gene changed into dragons almost immediately, but only Lorne and Sheppard are able to change back."

"He's stuck like that?" Mitchell asked. His expressions said that might be pretty cool.

"Yeah." Jeannie nodded. "So far, further exploration of the lab hasn't revealed any way to reverse it."

"So, he can't help us," Sobol said, then sighed when Jeannie's nod confirmed it. "That's too bad. I know our McKay was the original designer of the drive. If this one is even half as good we'd be all but guaranteed a trip home." She sighed again. "The poor man."

The table drifted into silence after that. Jeannie held her cooling mug and thought about Rodney and John, and John's absolute, breathtaking loyalty, and what kind of hell it would be, not to be able to have a real conversation with the person you loved. She wasn't sure she'd be able to stay with someone under those circumstances; she couldn't really imagine loving anyone enough to be willing to try.

She wondered if Evan Lorne would stay with her, if she'd ended up like Rodney, then felt so completely ridiculous for even thinking it that her face went hot.

"Well, that's it for me," Charles said with such suddenness that Jeannie jumped. He stretched, then stood and picked his mug up from the table. "Ms. Emmagan is going to teach me how to use Bantos rods in the morning," he explained, and Jeannie was pretty sure his smile had not much to do with the lesson and everything to do with who would be teaching it.

"Good luck," she said, smiling at him. He grinned and winked at her.

"I guess I should turn in too," Mitchell said and bounded out of his chair. "I've got a meeting with Colonel Sheppard and that Ronon Dex guy," he added. It was just to prove to Sobol that Weir had meant what she said, Jeannie was sure. And Sobol knew it, if her very thin smile was any indication.

"Good luck," Sobol said, in a way that made it obvious she was sure he'd need it.

"Thank you, Ma'am," Mitchell didn't quite growl. He nodded at each of them. "Colonel. Doc."

"Wait," Jeannie said on impulse, rocketing out of her seat. "Would you mind walking me to my quarters, Captain?" She put on a big smile in the hopes it would hide how completely she was lying. "I keep forgetting that I'm in the guest quarters, and I always end up in the wrong wing."

"I'd be happy to, Doc," Mitchell said. He walked with her and waited while she bussed her cup, then smiled and gestured for her to go ahead of him out the door.

"Thanks for giving me an excuse to get out of there," Jeannie murmured to him once they were well down the corridor from the mess. "The Colonel's in one hell of a mood tonight and I didn't want to have to deal with her all by myself."

Mitchell laughed, apparently delighted to be her cohort. "Any time." He stuck his hands in his pockets as they walked. "That dragon room, that's really messed up," he said after a moment. "I mean, why would anyone make a dragon-changing machine that you can't turn off?"

"I wish I knew," Jeannie said. "It's possible that it was never meant to work like that, but after ten thousand years and damage from water and Wraith weapons it just shorted out."

"Like a TV or something, huh?" Mitchell said musingly, and Jeannie kept herself from insulting him for the simplicity of the metaphor only because he was basically right. "Except the switch is permanently set on 'dragon'. Wild." He chuckled. "Hey—what would happen if you put someone who was already a dragon in there? Would they turn into, I dunno, a bigger dragon or something?" He was still grinning, but he looked at Jeannie like he was expecting a real answer.

"Nothing would happen," Jeannie said, keeping her voice kind by sheer will. "If you're already a dragon, you'd stay a dragon. You can't turn into the same thing twice."

"Oh. Okay," Mitchell said, nodding like that made perfect sense. He shrugged. "It's just that it'd be cool to be able to be a bigger dragon. Like, elephant sized."

"Yeah," it'd be great," Jeannie muttered. "Except for the never changing back to human part."

"Yeah," Mitchell agreed, sounding pensive. "Though, I don't know. I think it'd be pretty cool, to be something else."

Jeannie hesitated then put her hand on his shoulder. He looked at her, blinking. "I think you're just fine as you are. I mean, you saved my life," she said, feeling awkward.

He beamed at her like she'd just given him the best compliment ever, and Jeannie smiled back, wondering sadly how often anyone had ever praised him. "So…does that mean you're going to invite me in?"

Jeannie yanked her hand away and made a disgusted noise. "Thank you for reminding me why I don't actually talk to you."

He just laughed then kept grinning all the rest of the way to her door.

* * *

Jeannie fell into bed practically the minute after she smiled sweetly and closed her door in Mitchell's face. She was having yet another repeat of her stress-induced nightmare about being alone and unable to get to Atlantis's Stargate, when she was abruptly awake and realized someone was pounding on her door.

"I'm coming!" she hollered, still bewildered enough by the sudden shift from dream to reality that she collided with the desk chair on the way across the room. It took her a moment to figure out that the chair was in the wrong place because she was in different quarters on a different Atlantis, but by then she was swearing and limping and very much awake.

"What is it?" she snapped as soon as the door slid open. Then the young Marine's big-eyed expression registered and it felt like someone had poured ice water right into her stomach. "What happened? Is it Rodney?"

"Yes, Ma'am," the young man said, and Jeannie felt her heart drop all the way to her aching foot. The last time she'd seen Rodney was at lunchtime, when he'd fallen asleep while she was talking to John in the isolation room. He's been sick as a dog, but Beckett had been much more sanguine about his prognosis since Rodney had woken up after the Wraith attack. "Colonel Sheppard said to tell you he's gotten worse and you should come to the isolation room as soon as possible."

Jeannie nodded, so terrified that she felt kind of numb. She wasn't stupid. Beckett had said there was nothing he could do for Rodney's illness; if John wanted her to come to her brother than it could only mean the worst. "Tell him I'll be there as soon as possible." She remembered to say 'thanks' before she shut the door in this man's face too, then ran to her duffle and heaved it onto the bed, thinking the lights on. She'd been mildly surprised that this Atlantis reacted to her artificial gene as well as her own had, but she certainly wasn't complaining about it.

She'd learned to sleep in a tee-shirt and clean underwear for exactly this reason, so it was quick work to yank on a pair of uniform pants. She forewent her bra since social niceties were ridiculous in the face of Rodney dying.

The Marine was standing stiffly by the door when she barreled out, then had to launch into a run to keep up with her. She heard him using his radio to say they were coming.

"Wait," she told him and they stopped in front of Charles's room. She hammered on the door until it slid open and he was standing there, bleary-eyed and concerned.

"It's Rodney. His condition's deteriorated," she said without preamble. She swallowed. "I know the device didn't work with him before, but maybe…it might be worth another try."

"Sure," he said, though she was certain he had as little faith that the healing device would miraculously work the second time around as she did. She stood back while the door slid shut and waited jittery with impatience until it opened again and Charles strode out into the corridor. He was wearing his boots and a pair of borrowed Lantean BDU pants just like she was, but she was sure the shirt was the same one he'd worn to bed.

She dreaded what she was going to find when she went into the isolation room and it was just as bad as what she'd been expecting. Rodney was on the floor on the mats, fighting so hard for each breath that Jeannie could hear the wheezing while she was still in the doorway. Someone had rigged up an ingenious harness of medical tape and clear plastic tubing to give Rodney the equivalent of cannula feeding oxygen into his nostrils. A proper mask would have been far better, but she had no idea what they could have used to make one. His mouth was wide open as he struggled to breathe.

He had four IV bags of saline and powerful antipyretics feeding into veins on his forearms. Jeannie remembered Beckett saying that human medicine didn't work, which meant this was the kind of busywork/magical thinking medicine she'd always hated: the shots in the dark some physicians resorted to as a tangible substitute for praying for a miracle, because otherwise all that was left for them to do was nothing.

John was kneeling next to Rodney's head, talking quietly and stroking the dry skin between Rodney's half-closed eyes. He glanced up when she came in and his face had the grim, desperate rage of someone about to lose everything. There was a sopping towel on Rodney's neck and two more on his flank. Teyla was sitting at Rodney's middle with a very large container of water next to her. Jeannie could see ice cubes floating in it. Teyla took one of the towels, rung it out over the container then soaked it and put it on Rodney again. It looked like it was actually steaming from his body heat. Ronon was crouched in front of the quivering wings, his expression focused and grave as he helped Teyla place the towels. Evan was there as well, his wings dragging as he paced along the back wall of the room like a cat in a cage, making bit-off noises of misery.

"That looks bad," Charles said very softly. Jeannie nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

She looked at Beckett, who was hanging another IV bag to replace one that had already emptied. He was wasting resources and time, but for once she could understand.

"Acute lung infection?" Jeannie asked him.

He nodded. "Aye. Both lungs," he added needlessly. "His sputum is riddled with Enterobacter athosis. Teyla was half dead with it when we found her, but it's apparently very common. Normally a simple course of broad-spectrum antibiotic cures it. Normally. But Rodney's body can't tolerate any of our antibiotics."

"What's he saying?" Charles asked her. He'd taken the healing device from his pocket and was turning it anxiously in his hand.

"Opportunistic double pneumonia," Jeannie explained, using the name everyone knew. "His immune system was already compromised by his injuries, so bacteria got into his lungs."

Charles stared at her, looking bewildered. "I thought he was getting better from that!"

Jeannie swallowed. "Me too. It came back."

"This didn't work the last time," Charles said, meaning the device in his hand.

"I know," Jeannie said thickly, thinking of Beckett's IV bags and realizing that in the end this was probably just the same. "But we have to try."

"Yeah, sure," Charles said.

Jeannie gave him whatever she could scrape up for a smile and patted him on the back. "Hey, Rodney," she said as she walked to him, stepping carefully even though there was no reason to be quiet. John moved just enough to let her kneel and look into Rodney's dull blue eyes. "Wow. You look terrible."

He was burning with fever, panting out his frail breath in moist, hot gusts, and the only sound he could make was his rapid, shallow breathing. But he twitched his ears for her and weakly flipped his tail.

"Don't exert yourself, buddy," John said. "Just concentrate on breathing."

Jeannie scratched Rodney between his drooping ears. "I've got Kawalsky with me. We want to try the healing device again. Would that be okay? Blink twice for yes," she added quickly before Rodney could try making noise.

He blinked twice.

"Great," Jeannie said. She stood and motioned for Charles to come closer. "He says it's fine," she told him. Her heart was pounding with something viciously like hope, even though she knew this couldn't work. She was grabbing at straws because Rodney was drowning.

Teyla and Ronon stood as well, but John only moved back a little bit. Charles came closer, looking anxious but determined. He lifted his hand and closed his eyes and Rodney was bathed in light.

Nothing happened. Rodney's breathing didn't come any easier, and he was still too weak to move.

"Stop," Jeannie said. "There's no point. Stop before you exhaust yourself." She was trying to fight back tears of disappointment that were as stupid as the hope had been. She was a doctor; she knew better than this. There was never any such thing as miracles.

Charles dropped his arm and the light shut off. He took a deep, heavy breath and ran his fingers through his sleep-messy hair. "Damn it. Damn it! I could do this if he were human."

"You tried your best," John said woodenly.

Jeannie rubbed circles on her temples. "Is there any way we can turn him back?" she asked, even though she knew it was useless. "Any way at all?"

"No," Ronon said with awful finality.

"Right," Jeannie said softly. She started pacing because she felt like if she didn't move she'd tear right out of her skin. John had already told her everything they knew. How Janus's secret lab changed everyone with the ATA gene into dragons whether they wanted it or not. No one knew why. Only natural gene carriers could change back. No one knew why that was, either. So the dragon room was useless…

"Dragon room," Jeannie whispered, her thoughts spiraling crazily. Who the hell had called it that asinine name? Mitchell, she remembered. He'd called it that. He'd also thought the room would turn you into a bigger dragon, if you already were one. Which was a typically stupid idea, because why would the room do anything to you if you were already a dragon? The Ancients would never make an actual room that would turn you from human to dragon and back like an automatic switch—

She stopped dead, gaping. Except. Except the Ancients were all over the kind of shit that turned on automatically whether you wanted it to or not: the Gateships; the Ascension device that killed poor Gall back in her universe; that fucking tumor machine; Atlantis itself. So maybe they really had made a room that would turn you from human to dragon and back again.

Jeannie whirled, sure she must look more than a little insane by the way everyone was staring at her. "I think I have an idea."

* * *

"I don't know if we should do this," Carson said. He was all but wringing his hands. "I don't want to stress his body by moving him for nothing!"

"I think his body's already pretty stressed, Carson," John said, staying civil with an effort.

"I know it's a long shot at best. And believe me, I'm a doctor too. I understand how you feel," Jeannie said to Carson. "I don't want to make Rodney sicker, either. But what if it works?"

"What if it doesn't?" Carson shot back, snappish with fear. "What if he gets stuck half way like that poor lad Walsh or Rodney's sister did? What do we do then?"

"We're not doing much now," Ronon said.

"Ronon's right," Teyla said. She stood and dried her hands on her shirt. "Even the smallest chance is preferable to none."

"Excuse me, but I don't think Rodney's dead yet!" Carson exclaimed.

"But he will be!" Jeannie shouted. "He's dying and we all know it! Don't tell me you'd rather watch him drown in his own pus than take a risk that could save him!"

"Way to be positive, Doc," Kawalsky murmured.

"You know what?" John spat, "fuck this. Rodney, you understand what we're talking about, right?"

Rodney blinked twice.

"Great," John said. He glanced up to aim a glare at Carson. "So, Carson doesn't want us to try it because he's sure that either we'll just make you sicker by bringing you there and putting you back in the lab won't do anything, or putting you back in the lab will do something worse to you and you'll…you won't make it." He stopped and took a few deep breaths with his eyes closed, then rubbed his fingers and thumb over them. Rodney was still alive and they were going to keep him that way, it was that simple. "Jeannie thinks it could save you, but she's not sure, either. It's a long way from here and it won't be fun walking when you can barely breathe. I know that. But uh…I don't think that we've got a lot of options, here. But it's not our choice. So, what do you want to do, buddy?"

Rodney looked up at John and blinked twice.

"Yeah," John said quietly. He grinned at him. "That's my dragon." He stood up briskly and clapped his hands, ignoring how they were shaking. "All right. We need to get from the isolation room to the far end of the West pier. Fast. And Rodney can't fit in a transporter." He looked around at everyone else in the room. "Let's hear some suggestions."

"Could Evan carry him?" Jeannie asked. Evan perked up with his ears pointing at the ceiling like a rabbit.

John shook his head. "Rodney's too heavy. Evan could pick him up, but he couldn't generate enough lift with his wings to fly anywhere."

"We could help if he walks," Ronon said. "Rig up a harness with Evan on one side and the rest of us on the other, Rodney in the middle. He can walk and we'll support him."

"That's a good idea," Teyla said, "but the lab is nearly a half-hour's walk from here. I do not believe Rodney could easily manage that."

"Teyla's right," Carson said. "I doubt Rodney could walk that far right now, even with help." He shook his head miserably. "Ach. This is such a bad idea."

"Site-to-site transfer!" Kawalsky crowed. "Use the _Orion!_ They do that on Earth all the time!"

Jeannie's jaw dropped. "That's perfect!"

It would have been, but John had to shake his head again. "The _Orion_ 's parked on a pier at the opposite end of the city, with no crew. It'd take too long to get there and turn on the right equipment." He considered going anyway, but in the end it would take as much time as Rodney trying to walk would, even if he flew a jumper there. And he had a terrible feeling that they couldn't wait that long. "Come on, there has to be another way."

"What about a Gateship?" Jeannie asked.

"A Puddlejumper?" John shook his head. He gritted his teeth. This was useless. "He wouldn't fit."

"It's not that far," Ronon said. "What if you leave the hatch open?"

"And have Rodney lie on it in the open air where he could fall?" Carson demanded. "Are you daft? How could dropping him into the sea possibly help him?"

"No," John said, thinking about it. His heart started drumming; this could work. "No, he's right. We're not going that far, and if I fly slowly I can keep him safe." He grinned at Ronon, close to giddy with relief. This was something he could _do._ This was hope.

"We can hold on to him," Kawalsky added.

"Where's the nearest balcony?" Jeannie asked.

"Forget it," John said, striding to the doorway. "I'll bring it through the fucking wall."

* * *

With the shield up, breaking through the outer wall into the isolation room was a piece of cake. It was much harder to get Rodney on board. He couldn't walk easily with the oxygen tubes and tank so they had to remove it, and even with Evan and everyone else supporting him Rodney could barely keep upright, let alone move. By the time he could collapse with most of his body in the Jumper his lips were going blue.

John had to keep the jumper hovering, so he couldn't even help.

He flew as quickly as he dared without putting Rodney and the others in danger. He knew Ronon and Kawalsky were holding on to Rodney's front legs, but if he started sliding there wouldn't be much they could do about it. Carson had been adamant that they rig up some kind of harness, and normally John would have been a hundred percent behind that, but they didn't have the time.

His hands had stopped shaking as soon as he wrapped them around the jumper's yoke. He'd slid into that distant, freezing calm he'd come to rely on for things like this, where he could feel the anger and terror howling like wolves at the door but they couldn't get in. And that was why they landed on the nearest landing pier to the lab less than four minutes after they'd left the isolation room, and that was why he didn't panic when he got out of the pilot's seat and saw that Rodney was barely breathing with lips as blue as winter ice.

John yanked viciously on one of Rodney's ears. It felt like it'd been in a microwave. "Rodney!" he barked. "We're here! Get up!"

"What the hell are you doing?" Jeannie had wedged herself between Ronon and Kawalsky, refusing to leave Rodney for even the short distance.

"Rodney has to walk," Ronon explained. "We can't carry him."

John ignored them both. "Rodney! Come on!" He tightened his grip on Rodney's ear and twisted a little, knowing full well how very unpleasant that felt.

"Stop it!" Jeannie yelled.

"Come on, Rodney," John said to the dragon, relenting a little before he pulled Rodney's ear right off his head. "Rodney, if you don't get up now I swear I'm going to find every single one of your carefully stored laptops and throw them all into the ocean. GET UP!"

It was probably the yelling right next to his ear that did it, rather than the threat, but Rodney wheezed out a tiny little wet growl and slowly pulled open his eyes.

"That's it, that's it, that's fantastic, buddy. You're doing great," John said, now scratching around the ear he'd just abused. "I know everything hurts and you just want to sleep, but we're almost there now. Do you remember why we're here?"

Rodney snapped weakly at him.

"Just checking, Rodney," John said, forcing himself to grin. "But if you remember, then you know you gotta get up now. We'll help you, okay? You'll be fine. See? Evan's here now, too," John added as he thought he saw a flash of blue out the back of the jumper, illuminated by the ship's lights. Teyla and Carson were meant to arrive in a second jumper, but John didn't know how long that would take. "And he wants you to get better just as much as the rest of us, so you're going to have to get your big, scaly ass in gear and get on those ugly legs of yours so we can help you walk."

Rodney didn't have enough breath to even snarl at John's purposely annoying condescension or the insults, but he did lift his head and make a supreme effort to roll onto his four knees. He swayed like a barge in a storm for a moment, and then started the excruciatingly slow shuffle backwards to get enough of him out of the jumper so that he'd be able to stand. He had to stop every few seconds just to breathe or spit up mucus.

"That's it…that's it…you're almost there…" John said, though he wasn't sure that even Rodney's sharp ears could hear him over the sickly chug of his breathing. Ronon and Kawalsky each had their arms wrapped around Rodney's front legs, trying to help him move them. There wasn't enough room for anyone else to get that close so Jeannie and John could only watch Rodney's miserably slow progress until his head finally cleared the back hatch.

He and Jeannie rushed out of the jumper and she checked the pulse in Rodney's jugular vein while John petted and scratched around his ears, murmuring stupidities meant to be encouraging. Evan lumbered over and did his best to give comforting licks to Rodney's face while staying out of the way. Rodney was shaking with effort and the pale tan of his skin was ashen under the city's artificial lights.

John hadn't even noticed the other jumper landing, but he was grateful when Carson and Teyla ran to them carrying Rodney's oxygen tank. He helped them secure the cannula with medical tape. Rodney gulped in the oxygen through his nostrils and his lips at least lost some of the deathly blue.

"The lab's just a few feet down the corridor," John said. "You ready to give it a try?"

Rodney blinked twice.

Everyone helped him to stand, Evan on one side with his muzzle nudged under Rodney's foreleg, and the humans on the other. On the count of three they got Rodney to his feet again. He turned towards the doors into the city like a disabled tank and started walking, leaning heavily on Evan and stopping every few steps.

John and Jeannie walked behind as closely as they could without stepping on either of the dragons' tails, followed by Ronon and Kawalsky and Teyla and Carson in a bizarre and anxious parade. Lights blinked on one after another all the way ahead of them, as if Atlantis herself wanted to help. Jeannie was hugging herself like she was cold, looking as if anyone so much as touched her she'd crack apart.

"What if it doesn't work?" she asked him. Her voice was soft and trembling. "Oh, God—what if it kills him? Or just getting him there does? Or—"

"It'll work," John said. It would. There was no other option.

"Right. Of course it'll work," Jeannie said. She still looked just as terrified.

"Thank God," John muttered. They'd finally reached the large T-junction at the end of the corridor. The lab was straight ahead, hidden behind what looked and registered just like an ordinary wall. John went to it and ran his hand over a panel disguised as a light sconce and the wall disappeared.

The room inside looked just as innocuous as it always had, completely empty except for two consoles nestled together in the far corner.

"All right," John said over his shoulder. "This is what we're going to do—"

Evan slipped away from Rodney, leaving him to collapse onto the corridor floor. The blue dragon darted into the lab before John could complete the sentence.

"Evan!" John stopped himself just before he put a foot into the room, curbing his automatic reflex to go after him. He heard Jeannie's cry of shock and Carson's loud, angry swearing, but his eyes were fixed on Evan.

"It's not working," Jeannie breathed, just as Evan began to change.

The dragon convulsed, back arching as it let out a bellow of pain. Evan's body began shrinking, dropping the added mass like leaves. John gritted his teeth as he watched, hands tightly clenched. He knew exactly how much that hurt. Jeannie had run to the door and was standing beside him with both her hands cupped over her mouth.

Normally the discarded flesh stayed where it dropped like debris in a slaughterhouse, but John sucked in a shocked breath to see the pieces disintegrate, swirling black like smoke before disappearing completely. And the gaping wounds the shed flesh left behind were closing much more quickly than anyone's ever had before, even when they were rested and healthy before the change. Evan was obviously still in terrible pain, but this time it seemed certain that he'd live through it.

The entire transition was faster. In comparison to what John remembered it seemed like Evan was human again in no time at all. He lay curled on his side in the large room, twitching as the final aftershocks left his body. There was barely any blood.

Jeannie looked at John, her blue eyes like saucers with amazement. "What happened?"

John just shook his head, bewildered. He knew what she meant but had no better idea than she did. "I don't know. It wasn't—it wasn't nearly that easy the first time."

Carson ran up and Jeannie grabbed his jacket before he could hurtle through the doorway.

"Believe me, Doc, you don't want to go in there," John said.

"Bloody hell!" Carson swore. He took a step back but he was all but vibrating with his need to go into the lab to help. He looked over his shoulder. "Teyla, Ronon—I can't go in!"

Teyla and Ronon immediately ran into to the room. Teyla had a thermal blanket and she ripped it out of the package while Ronon checked Evan.

"I'm fine!" Evan called. His voice sounded strained and he was breathing heavily, but he sat up with no help and smiled gratefully at Teyla when she handed the blanket to him. He wrapped it around himself and stood, accepting Teyla's hand on his arm because his own were busy holding the blanket. He looked a little bit shaky, but that was all.

"What the _fuck_ do you think you were doing?" Carson yelled at him the instant Evan was back in the corridor. John had almost never seen him angry enough to actually swear like that. "Do you have a death wish? What if that bloody room had turned you inside out?"

"Then it would've been me instead of Rodney," Evan said blandly. He shrugged then readjusted the blanket, but his gaze didn't quite meet Carson's. "I was pretty sure it was going to work."

"'Pretty sure'? How could you possibly—!"

"Lay off, Carson," John snapped. "He did what I would have done. And now we know it works, so let's get Rodney in there while he's still breathing, okay?"

Carson dutifully shut up but he gave Evan a black glare that definitely meant this wasn't over before he went to Rodney.

"He's still hanging in there," Kawalsky said. He was petting Rodney, who had rolled onto his side again. Rodney's eyes were weary but alert, tracking John, Jeannie and Carson. He grumped almost silently in reproach.

"Like any of us could possibly forget you were here," John said, kneeling to scratch between his eyes.

"Sorry about that, McKay," Evan said, smiling wanly. "I didn't want to drop you, but, uh…"

Rodney drew his lips back.

"Sorry," Evan said again.

"Come on," John said to Rodney. "Quit lying around. It's your turn and I'd like to get you healthy again in time for breakfast. I'm sure you want to eat off a tray for once, right?"

Rodney gave John a look that managed to be withering despite the exhaustion in it. Rodney took as deep a breath as he could and started rolling onto his knees again with Kawalsky helping. John quickly knelt and helped him as well, then patted his heaving flank while Rodney rested.

It was much harder getting Rodney to his feet without another dragon's strength to help, which Carson made sure to mention. John was pretty sure he'd strained every muscle in his upper body but at least Rodney could walk.

Only Ronon, Teyla and Kawalsky could go with him into the lab. Teyla carried the oxygen tank and Ronon and Kawalsky helped Rodney stay on his feet. Rodney dropped as soon as he could curve his tail to get it all in the room.

They waited. Jeannie was standing beside John again, and when she grabbed his hand he realized he'd put them in such tight fists they were painful and shaking. He let Jeannie thread her fingers through his and hold on as tightly as she wanted. He thought Carson might be praying. John stood as close to Rodney as he dared and just tried to breathe over the wild hammering of his heart.

"Come on, Mer," Jeannie murmured. "Come on. Come on. Change. Change! Please!"

"I think it's happening," Kawalsky said. He was standing with his eyes fixed on the dragon. He reached towards the cannula. "Maybe we should—"

Rodney shuddered, then let out a ragged whisper of a scream as it grew worse, until his huge dragon body was convulsing.

"Get him out of there! Get him out of there!" John yelled. He tried to grab Rodney's thrashing tail but Carson yanked him back.

"It's working!" he cried before John could hit him. "It's working! Look!"

He was right. Rodney had starting changing.

It wasn't nearly as easy as Evan's had been. Rodney's body seemed to be transforming in increments, as if reluctant to let go of its current form. He writhed grotesquely as muscle and bone shifted under his skin. Pieces of the dragon body tore off slowly and left bleeding gouges behind. The extra mass disappeared into smoke the way that it had for Evan but Rodney still shook and twisted and bled, moaning because he couldn't breathe well enough to scream. And John and everyone else could only watch helplessly, unable to do anything.

"Charles!" Jeannie called into the room. "Start healing him! Please! Start now!"

Kawalsky nodded and lifted the device. John didn't think Rodney was human enough yet for it to work, but he understood how desperate Jeannie was to help him. The warm light flooded out and covered Rodney in a halo of its light.

John could see the intensity of Kawalsky's concentration by the creases next to his eyes. Sweat pricked over his forehead. Jeannie was clutching John's hand in both of hers, squeezing so tightly he thought she might actually break his fingers, but he didn't say anything. Every bare ounce of his will was focused on Rodney, on making him live.

Kawalsky's hand was shaking now but suddenly Jeannie gasped and then John could see the row of bullet wounds along Rodney's side smooth out one by one, and then the far larger lesions his fallen wings had made. The agonizingly slow shift back to Rodney's true form went faster, urged along by the healing beam. Organs and muscles and tendons and bones were coaxed back to where they belonged, until at last there was only Rodney McKay, completely human and whole and breathing raggedly, his pale skin translucent with fever.

Kawalsky's arm shook so violently that he was steadying his wrist with his other hand, but the light kept pouring out brilliant and strong, and gradually Rodney's frantic gasping relaxed. Sweat beaded his skin as his fever broke.

"Yes!" Ronon shouted and Kawalsky made a triumphant noise before the light went out and he sat heavily on the floor. He laughed, using his free hand to wipe the sweat out of his eyes.

"It worked? Did it work?" Carson asked.

"Is he all right?" Jeannie said at the same time. John couldn't find his voice. All he wanted in the entire galaxy was to be able to go into that room.

Teyla's joyous smile was all the confirmation anyone needed. And then Rodney McKay opened his eyes.

He blinked, looking up at the three people in the room with him. "You're all so much bigger," he said.

Teyla laughed out loud then bent and quickly helped take the now overly-large cannula off his face. As soon as she was finished Ronon whooped and scooped Rodney off the floor, ignoring the drying blood and Rodney's indignant squawk at still being completely naked. He crushed Rodney into one of his typical bear hugs and then relinquished his grip long enough for Teyla to touch their foreheads with her hands on either side of Rodney's face.

"Um, I'm still naked," Rodney said, blushing everywhere. Ronon just laughed and hugged him again, though he helped Teyla wrap him in another blanket when Carson tossed one to her.

"You okay, Charles?" Jeannie asked him. She was leaning forward with her hands up and clenched over her chest.

Kawalsky grinned and gave her a tired thumbs-up. "Wiped out, but definitely okay." He lifted his hand to Ronon, who hauled him to his feet and then hugged him too. Teyla smiled at him and touched his face, but she was helping Rodney keep steady as he walked out of the room so she couldn't do more than that.

"This feels so weird," Rodney said. "My center of balance is way off."

"It'll come back," Carson said. His eyes were wet. "It's good to see you, Rodney."

"Well it's not like I actually went anywhere…" Rodney said. Teyla let go of him so he could stoically endure another hug, trying to return it without losing the blanket.

Evan and Rodney shared a mutual nod and embarrassed grin, and then the only ones left who Rodney hadn't spoken to yet were Jeannie and John.

"Hey, Rodney," John managed.

"Hey," Rodney said. He shuffled a step closer and then John just grabbed him and pulled him into his arms. Rodney was clutching the blanket around himself so he couldn't hug back, but it didn't matter. His body was as sold and strong as John remembered; the fine brown hair just as soft. John buried his face against Rodney's neck and threaded his fingers up into Rodney's hair. Rodney leaned into him and the weight of his body, the warmth of his skin, was perfect. He was perfect. John had missed this so much.

"I, uh, probably smell really bad," Rodney said with his typical grace.

John made a noise that was nearly a laugh. His throat ached too much to let him speak.

"I know," Rodney said softly. "I know. But I'm here. I'm all right."

John swallowed heavily but he nodded and lifted his head. He let Rodney go and stepped back, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. He turned to Kawalsky, who was standing with his arm across Teyla's narrow shoulders. She had her arm around his waist. "Thank you," he said.

Kawalsky grinned. "I'm expecting the next couple days off, Sir."

John smirked. "I'm sure Carson will want to keep you in the infirmary for at least that long."

Jeannie was crying and laughing at the same time and hugging Rodney like her life depended on it. John thought he'd have to rescue Rodney soon before he was either squished or collapsed from emotional overload. He also wanted to touch Rodney's human body again. Very, very badly. _Later,_ he promised himself. Right now he had to peel his almost-sister-in-law off his lover and get everyone back to the city.

He checked his watch, a little surprised to see that it was almost morning. The sun would be rising soon.

It was going to be a really good day.

* * *

"Checkmate!" Jeannie crowed again and then glanced guiltily around the infirmary, concerned she'd just woken someone up. She decided she hadn't and gleefully knocked over Rodney's king with her castle. "Seriously," she said to him, grinning. "Is this a post-dragon thing? Or is your being so lousy at chess one of the differences between our universes?"

"I'm not lousy at chess," Rodney said grumpily. He scooped his captured pieces off the bed and smacked them into place on the chessboard. "I haven't played it in nearly two years."

"A year and a half," Jeannie corrected breezily. "And I'll bet you were always this bad. I bet you lost all the time."

Rodney glowered. "You know, I think this universe's version of you was nicer."

Jeannie's eyes shot wide. "I'm sorry!" she blurted. "I'm sorry. I've got a competitive streak and I'm bad with people in general and I know I can be a terrible bitch without even trying and I really, really didn't mean to hurt your feelings. And…oh, God." She put her face in her hands, hoping she wasn't going to burst into tears. "I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry," she said again, muffled.

"Jeannie? Jeannie? I was _joking,_ " Rodney said. "I was joking! I'm sorry! Jeannie? Did you hear me?"

Jeannie nodded with her hands still over her face. "I don't really think you're bad at chess," she said.

"Good," Rodney said testily. "Because I'm _not._ And will you look at me already?"

Jeannie lowered her hands.

Rodney didn't say anything, though. He just looked at her for a long moment. Jeannie licked her lips, feeling herself blushing.

"Do I look really different?" she asked.

"No. Not even remotely," Rodney said. He blinked. "Do I?"

Jeannie smiled a little. "Yes, but only because the last time I saw you was ten years ago. You look the same, though. I mean, you look how I imagined you would."

Rodney nodded, thinking. He put his hand over hers on the tray table. "I still miss her," he said, and there was no need to ask who he was talking about. "She's…You're being here won't bring her back. But you're not a substitute, Jeannie," he said. "You're still my sister, and you're still you, and…" He winced. "And I know how much this sounds like a greeting card, but…You'll never be her, and I don't expect you to be her. But you fit into the spaces she left empty." He smiled and his eyes were getting a little shiny. "And I love you so much, and I can't believe how lucky I am that you're here." He swallowed and blinked quickly and then concentrated very hard on making sure all the chess pieces were perfectly straight. "And I'm going to blame all of what I just said on being a dragon until yesterday morning."

"Sure," Jeannie said, then pushed the table aside, scattering chess pieces on the floor. She ignored Rodney's huff of annoyance and hugged him very, very hard.

"I love you too," Jeannie said. "I can't believe how lucky I am. I'm so glad I came here."

"Me too," Rodney said. "Me too."

Someone cleared their throat nearby. Jeannie jumped and socked the side of her head into Rodney's chin.

"Sorry." It was John, looking chagrined. "I just came to see how Rodney was doing."

"Rodney's doing _fine,_ " he said, then scowled, rubbing his jaw. "You know it's completely your fault that Carson's keeping me in here."

John blinked at him, all affronted innocence. " _My_ fault? So now what? You're saying I gave you double pneumonia?"

"Probably," Rodney sniffed. "But I'm actually talking about that death-defying stunt you pulled a few days ago, except of course without the 'defying' part. Because of what happened to you Carson's gone completely insane and will keep me here for 'observation'"—he made air quotes that looked like bunnies—"until _the end of time._ "

"Will everyone stop talking about that already? Jeeze! It's like I'm the only one who ever made a mistake around here!" John crossed his arms and looked down at Rodney with lowered eyebrows. "It's not like I blew up most of a solar system!"

"Two thirds," Rodney corrected with the weary annoyance of someone who was very used to doing it. "And I can't _believe_ you're bringing that up just to get back at me! How juvenile are you?"

"Um, I'm just going to get an early start on my shift," Jeannie said, sliding out of her chair. "See you later, Rodney! Bye, John!"

"Bye," Rodney said. He waved a hand absently then crossed his arms the way John was. "Seriously, that…miscalculation has _nothing_ on you _purposely_ doing something that was guaranteed to kill you!"

"I was trying to save your life!" John shot back.

"Get a room!" Evan yelled from his side of the infirmary. He'd asked to be put as far away from Rodney as humanly possible and now Jeannie understood why.

"Are they always like this?" she asked when she was next to Evan's bed. She told herself she was there to continue the observation Carson ordered but didn't even bother to keep up the pretense when she grabbed a nearby chair and dropped into it.

"Yeah, pretty much," Evan said. He sighed and rubbed one eye. "I'm sure Carson would say it's their way of dealing with the tension of one of them being hurt, but I think it's just so he'll kick them out of here as soon as possible."

Jeannie laughed, glancing over at them. John was sitting in the chair now and holding Rodney's hand. They were still arguing. "I'm a little surprised that they're so willing to show that they're in a relationship," she said.

Evan looked at her curiously. "Is there a problem with people showing affection in public where you're from?"

"No." Jeannie shook her head. "Well, not really. It's just that the military—The American military, I mean. I worked for the U.S. Combined Armed Forces—has strict regulations about relationships between the ranks or between military and civilians. You need special psych exams to prove that you're not going to exploit each other or neglect the other people under your command, that kind of thing." She shrugged. "I was expecting something like that here."

"Huh," Evan said. "That's weird. Here that kind of stuff is encouraged. Stable relationships help keep people from being stressed out, so everyone's more productive."

"And no one cares if they're both guys?" Jeannie asked, fascinated.

"Well, they used to," Evan said, sounding like he was reluctant to admit it. "But most of the time no one gives a damn. For sure no one does out here."

"Good," Jeannie said, happy for Rodney and John. "But, don't relationships affect group cohesion? Like, if other people become jealous, or the relationship goes sour?"

Evan grinned. "That's what the counselors are for."

"Ah," Jeannie said. "I guess there must be a lot of them, then."

Evan laughed. "We have three just on Atlantis, if that tells you anything."

Jeannie smiled back, until it occurred to her that she might be holding Evan's gaze a little too long and she looked away, feeling awkward and shy. "So," she said, yanking up her veneer of detached professionalism, "how are you feeling?"

"Great," Evan said, smiling ruefully. "I can't wait to get out of here."

"Well, Carson has the final say in that, but as far as I'm concerned you and Rodney are perfectly fine and should be able to leave anytime you want," Jeannie said, then couldn't help grinning at how relieved Evan looked. "Come on—it's not that bad in here, is it?" She glanced a few beds down to the one Charles was using. He was fast asleep and looking very comfortable. Teyla was sitting next to his bed, reading something on a tablet. "Charles doesn't have any problem with it."

"Wait'll he wakes up," Evan said, smiling crookedly. "Everyone hates it here."

"I don't," Jeannie said. It hadn't really come out like a joke, and she realized it wasn't meant to be one.

"Well, that's good to hear," Evan said. He was still smiling, but the tone of the conversation had changed all of a sudden; neither of them was joking anymore. "Rodney was looking at the design specs for that drive your ship used. He told me you all might be here for awhile."

"I know," Jeannie said. "I'm, well…" She lowered her voice even though she knew there was no reason to. Guilt, she was sure. "I'm glad. I hate to say it, but it's true. I want to stay here."

"Oh," Evan said, and he was so clearly relieved that it made Jeannie's heart thump like a happy puppy's tail. "Well, that's good. I mean, that you won't be upset. Or anything."

"Would you have dinner with me?" Jeannie said before she could talk herself out of it. "After you're released, I mean. Though we could eat here. If you wanted to. That would be fine."

Evan blinked and then he smiled, sweet and even a little shy. He really did have beautiful eyes, dragon or human. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah. That would be great."

"Great," Jeannie said, feeling silly and a bit anxious and completely elated. She couldn't seem to stop grinning. She checked her watch and stood. "I really do need to start my shift," she said by way of apology. "But I'll see you when I get a break for dinner, okay?"

She brushed her fingertips over his cheek as she left, like a promise of a kiss. When she glanced back at Evan he was touching where her fingers had been, and still smiling.

* * *

Realistically speaking, there really wasn't any reason for John to be so damn happy waiting for the meeting to start, especially as he mostly hated meetings and the only thing on the agenda for this one was bad news. But for the first time in a year and a half he was sitting next to Rodney instead of watching Rodney try to fit his dragon body into a human-sized room, and right then John was pretty sure not even an impending Ori attack could ruin his mood. Especially since Rodney had his ankle hooked around John's under the table.

He did try to hide it though, because he wasn't a jerk and he didn't want Colonel Sobol to think that he was happy about what Rodney was going to say. Even though he was. Instead, John did his best to look sober and attentive and only smile a little bit at Jeannie when she caught his eye from the other end of the very large conference table. She was sitting with Sobol and Kawalsky, with Dr. Kate Heightmeyer on her left and Radek on Kawalsky's right. Sobol was in the middle of the group, as if her two _Daedalus_ crewmembers had unconsciously decided she needed protecting. Of course, Ronon had just happened to sit next to Elizabeth so she ended up between Ronon and Evan, but John knew that was completely deliberate.

Jeannie was grinning at Rodney, who naturally didn't notice because he was scowling at his tablet. John looked soberly down at the table so he wouldn't grin back at her, even though he knew exactly how she felt.

Evan kept glancing at Jeannie and then looking away and blushing a lot, and John quietly rolled his eyes and decided he really didn't want to know.

"Thank you all for attending," Elizabeth said. She was smiling, but her voice had enough gravity that she instantly had everyone's attention. "As you know," she continued, now speaking directly to the _Daedalus_ 's crew, "our science team has been working on the problem of getting you back to your original universe." Sobol and Kawalsky nodded and Jeannie smiled, but John could feel the tension ratcheting up in their silence. "And since we were fortunate enough to have our Dr. McKay returned to his normal form, he's been leading the team tasked with recreating the alternate reality drive." She paused for a moment, then, "I don't think there's any way we can adequately thank you for restoring him to us," she said to Jeannie and Kawalsky, so seriously that even Rodney stopped what he was doing and looked up.

"Yeah. Um, thanks," Rodney said, though John figured the deep red of his blush probably made up for the lack of eloquence. John just nodded, worried that his voice might crack if he tried to speak. At least he was pretty sure they already knew how he felt.

"In any case," Elizabeth went on, now brisk and businesslike again. "I've asked you here this afternoon so he and Dr. Zelenka can inform you of the results of the team's work. Dr. McKay," she said, directing everyone's attention to him.

"Right," Rodney said. He stood and cleared his throat. "You're probably not going to want to hear this," he said without preamble, and John hid a wince. Being a dragon for a year and a half obviously hadn't done anything for his tact. "But I'm afraid you can't go home. At least not for awhile," he amended quickly at the horrified widening of Sobol's eyes. "A long while," he amended again, and John would have put his hand over his face except everyone could see him. "The problem is that I—I mean we—" he glanced guiltily at Radek, "can rebuild the drive, but the reason your ship ended up skipping from universe to universe isn't actually a design flaw, the way we thought. It's a problem with the theory behind the drive."

"I don't understand," Sobol said with icy control this side of a snarl. "Dr. Carter wouldn't have given the go-ahead to have the drive built if it wasn't going to work."

Rodney sighed. "I've never met the Samantha Carter from your reality, but if she's anything like ours, then I would say you're absolutely right. I also sincerely doubt that my counterpart, who your Dr. McKay told me originated the design, would have knowingly given Carter flawed research. The problem doesn't lie with either of them. The problem is that it's impossible to draw energy in the way the drive was intended to without ending up with this result."

"It is like being pregnant," Radek chimed in when Rodney paused to take a breath. "You can't get just a small amount of pregnancy—it is all or nothing. The drive ends up working the same way, no matter what failsafe is put into the design."

Rodney tossed him a quick glare. "Thank you for that completely absurd analogy, Radek. Unfortunately," he said to the room, "ridiculous as the analogy is, it's right. Once you've opened a hole between universes, it's like knocking over a fire hydrant. You get this enormous gush of energy that's impossible to turn off. The drive simply won't work any other way once it's initiated. And the reason Carter and McKay didn't see it is that it was impossible _to_ see it, until the drive was actually online."

"Wait," Sobol said, and John couldn't help noticing that of the three _Daedalus_ crew she seemed like the only one particularly upset about this, "I understand what you're saying. But, all we need to do is get back to the universe we came from. Once there, we can simply…abandon whatever vehicle is containing the drive, the way we did when we abandoned our _Daedalus_ before you found us."

"That is technically true," Radek said. "But there is another problem—we can't guarantee that the rebuilt drive would only recharge as fast as original. It is possible that you would have just minutes, or even seconds, before the drive reached maximum power and forced another jump."

"And that's only if we could figure out which sequence of universes would lead back to yours," Rodney added miserably. "If there's even an actual sequence we could follow."

"There are potentially millions of different universes," Radek said.

Sobol visibly swallowed. "I see," she said quietly.

"I'm sorry," Rodney said into the silence that followed. "I'm truly sorry. We'll of course be looking for another way, but…" He trailed off helplessly. "I'm sorry." He sat down, mouth compressed in a thin, miserable line.

John gripped Rodney's thigh and Rodney threaded their fingers together.

Elizabeth stood again. "I won't pretend to know what you're going through," she said to the three members of the _Daedalus_. "I would say that our loss of contact with Earth is comparable, except we're still in the reality we were born in, whereas none of you even have that." She looked directly at Sobol. "We want you to know that all of us," she made a gesture that encompassed her people at the table, "are prepared to do whatever you require to help your crew to adjust to their new circumstances. Dr. Heightmeyer is our psychiatric head for Atlantis. She is making herself and her staff available for the _Daedalus_ crew, and I and Atlantis's leadership team will be available to you to discuss strategies for acclimating your people to Atlantis."

Sobol nodded distantly. She looked numb. "I'll have to tell them."

"We can set up an all-staff meeting as soon as you're ready," Elizabeth said.

"Yes," Sobol said. Her voice was still strangely flat. "I suppose you'll want a list of my remaining crew and their relevant expertise."

"There's no hurry," Elizabeth said, smiling sympathetically. "But yes, that information will be vital when it comes to assimilating your people with ours."

"I was hoping I could work with Dr. Beckett towards being his co-Chief of Medicine," Jeannie said eagerly, then glanced at Sobol and looked really guilty.

"I realize this can be no compensation for what you've lost," Elizabeth said smoothly into the awkward silence left in the wake of Jeannie's confession. "But the entire city is more than prepared to welcome you and give you a home with us." She spoke to Jeannie, Sobol and Kawalsky, but John could tell the words were really for Sobol alone. "We will be grateful for your expertise and happy for your company. Chief Specialist Ronon Dex, as our liaison to the Satadan Alliance, will help you find a new home wherever you wish if not here. But I know I speak of all of us when I say we hope you and your crew will all choose to stay in Atlantis."

"Thank you," Sobol said tightly. She pushed her chair back and stood to walk stiffly from the room. Kawalsky looked like he wanted to go after her, but Jeannie put her hand on his arm. She looked questioningly at John.

John nodded then pushed his own chair back and got up, and when he caught Elizabeth's eye she nodded as well. "Come on," he said to Rodney, grabbing his arm and tugging. "There's no way I'm doing this alone."

* * *

"If you're going to start dragging me around, Sheppard, it should at least be to have sex, not talk Colonel Flinty-Eyed through an existential crisis," Rodney groused.

"Don't tempt me," John hissed at him, though the fleeting idea of yanking Rodney into the next available storeroom was so appealing that John was forced to imagine some pretty unpleasant things before Colonel Sobol ended up thinking he was a little too happy to see her. The image of Rodney bleeding from multiple gunshot wounds or dying of pneumonia sure as hell did the trick.

"What's wrong?" Rodney asked, staring at him worriedly. "You look like someone's just walked on your grave."

"Something like that," John said, and then he had to straighten his shoulders and settle his features into something resembling professionally neutral because there was Sobol, right where he knew they'd find her: standing on the nearest balcony to the mess and staring out at the rest of the city with the ocean breeze pushing back the ends of her hair.

She glanced over her shoulder when John strode out to join her with a more reluctant Rodney following.

"Good afternoon, Colonel," she said. "I was just admiring the view."

"Yeah, it's pretty amazing," John agreed. He leaned much more casually against the balcony rail, with his back to the view Sobol was admiring and his forearms resting on the smooth metal. Rodney rolled his eyes and went to Sobol's other side, looking out the way she was. "I guess it's the same where you come from, huh?"

Sobol nodded. "There are some very small differences, but nothing readily apparent."

"A difference that makes no difference is no difference," Rodney said.

Sobol's smile was thin. "I would say that this makes a pretty big difference, overall," she said.

"I think what Rodney means is, like Dr. Weir said—there's no reason you couldn't make a life here. I know it's not home, but…well, we've all been kind of forced to improvise, out here," John said, suddenly wondering why he'd ever thought he should be the one to give Sobol the pep talk. Probably because they were both the highest-ranking officers on base, which in retrospect wasn't really all that much in common.

"I suppose I'm lucky," Sobol said. "Some of the _Daedalus_ survivors left family behind. No kids, at least. That's a strict SGC policy, no one with children. But there are boyfriends, wives, brothers and sisters…But not me." She smiled, but it was bitter and dark. "I'm just leaving behind my ship and more than half my crew, not to mention the front lines of a battle that my Atlantis needs desperately to win."

"I'm sorry," Rodney said, and he looked so guilty that John wanted to smack him. He wasn't responsible for the flaw in the alternate reality drive, any more than he was for the other McKay having designed the damn thing in the first place.

"I know that none of us can make up for what you or your crew has lost," John said, "but if it's any consolation, we could really use you here. Elizabeth meant every word she said about that."

"I heard it the first time," Sobol said, still looking out at the city. "Dr. McKay is so eager to stay here I would have suspected her of sabotage, except in the end she wasn't part of your Dr. McKay's team." She looked at John, her gaze considering. "I'm almost tempted to think that the research team falsified their results."

"We would _never_ do that!" Rodney exclaimed angrily. "How could you _possibly_ think that _anyone_ on my team would purposely strand you here? You—"

"She said 'almost', McKay," John said, cutting smoothly through Rodney's ire before he could work up to a full tirade. "I'm sure she doesn't really think anyone on Atlantis would do anything so unprofessional."

"I don't," Sobol said, and despite his words John was relieved that she admitted it so easily. "Two of my engineers were on your team, and one of them has a wife and two dogs back in Austin she won't stop talking about. And I know you, Dr. McKay," she said, looking at him. "I only met my reality's version of you once, unfortunately, before his passing. But I can't imagine you could have less intelligence or integrity than he did."

"Oh," Rodney said, obviously taken aback by the unsolicited compliment. It kind of made John want to smack him in the head again, or hug him, because Rodney always demanded recognition for his genius but even after all these years he was still amazed when he actually got it. "Well, good."

"A significant percentage of the _Daedalus_ crew would be happy to stay here," Sobol said. "And I'm pleased for them. But I'm afraid I can't imagine how you could need the skills of another Colonel, especially when you already have a military commander for Atlantis."

"Well, that's the thing," John drawled, very happy that Sobol had given him the perfect opening. "You're right—we don't need a commander for Atlantis. But we do need one for the _Orion_."

"The _Orion,_ " Sobol murmured, and then the full implication hit her and she turned to face John. "You mean, the Ancient ship? The one that rescued us?"

"That one," John said, nodding. It'd been Rodney's suggestion, but John had to admit it was a good one.

"But I thought that position belonged to Lt.-Colonel Lorne," Sobol said.

John shrugged. "It has, when necessary. I've sat in the captain's chair myself. But the fact is we need a permanent crew. The _Orion_ is the only hyperspace-capable ship in this galaxy, and as a result we need to use it all the time, for everything from rescue missions to transporting Alliance members to hauling supplies. The problem is that we can't do any of those things nearly as much as we want to, because we can't afford to leave Atlantis without personnel so we can pilot the ship."

"But with you as commander and even half of your people as a skeleton crew, we could," Rodney said. "We've even been thinking about sending the _Orion_ back to the Milky Way, to see what the situation is. That would be a volunteer-only mission of course," Rodney added quickly, "but now, for the first time it's a real possibility."

"As long as you won't mind my taking her for a spin every so often," John said.

Sobol looked at him then back out to the ocean. "I—I didn't expect this," she said. "I…" She closed her eyes. "I'm sorry. I understand what you're offering and I appreciate it. But I can't. This isn't…I can't just make a life here when people are depending on me. I can't give up like that."

Rodney looked like he was seriously considering taking umbrage at that so John put up his hand with a quelling shake of his head. "We understand," he said with a hard look at Rodney, who glared but reluctantly nodded. "I know if our positions were reversed I'd feel exactly the same way. There's no pressure here. Just know the offer's open when you're ready." He ignored Rodney's frustrated eye-roll. He could understand Rodney's impatience too—they really did need a permanent crew on the _Orion_ , very badly. But he'd also meant exactly what he'd said. If he got lost from his Atlantis he knew he'd spend the rest of his life trying to get back. He just hoped Sobol ended up being more flexible than that. This Atlantis needed her, and sometimes all you could do was make the best of what you had.

"You said yourself that some of the _Daedalus_ crew want to stay," Rodney said.

"I know." Sobol nodded. She opened her eyes, looking resigned instead of angry about it. "And I'll have to deal with that when the time comes. But I can't blame them for wanting something permanent." She looked at Rodney with a surprisingly warm smile. "I'm sure that for some of my crew it must feel like they've been handed a whole new life."

John closed his eyes and drew in a few deep breaths against the sudden drumming of his heart. He felt exactly like that, like he'd been handed a new life. He'd been given everything.

"Will you at least think about it?" Rodney said with his typical impatience, though at least he'd managed to make his voice sound like he was asking it rather than snapping at her.

"Yes," Sobol said. "I'll think about it."

* * *

John chose a different route back to the mess, which Rodney certainly realized but didn't complain about. At least not until John stopped in front of the empty lab he knew was along this corridor and pulled Rodney inside.

"Seriously? You're seriously just dragging me into a random lab to have sex when we've got, like, six people waiting for us?"

"They can wait another ten minutes, Rodney," John said, though he noticed that Rodney wasn't exactly resisting as John carefully pushed him against the nearest available wall.

"Jeannie will get worried and come looking for us," Rodney said, just as John was going for a kiss. They ended up hitting each other's teeth. "Ow!"

"So we'll just have to keep quiet," John whispered, then repositioned his head and sealed their lips together. Rodney was probably right—Jeannie had been incredibly clingy this past week, not that John could blame her, though it did make sneaking off like this a little difficult.

John slid his tongue into Rodney's mouth before Rodney could say anything else. He pressed tightly against Rodney, still craving the feel of him even after a week. He worked his hand down in between their bodies so he could palm Rodney's groin, and it was pretty obvious that Rodney was just as interested as he was despite the bitching. He squeezed gently and Rodney made a demanding noise and kissed John harder. He carded one hand into John's hair and grabbed John's ass with the other.

John broke the kiss when Rodney started thrusting against him, ignoring the protesting whine. "Hang on, hang on…" He fumbled Rodney's pants open and dropped to his knees. He had Rodney's cock free and in his mouth before Rodney could do more than gasp.

It would've been a lot more fun to take his time, but Rodney was right about people waiting for them so John didn't go for finesse. He sucked the head of Rodney's cock and lapped at it with his tongue, flicking over the slit in the way that always drove Rodney insane. He fisted the shaft and pumped it just this side of rough the way Rodney really liked, and looked up to see Rodney throw his head back with his hands pressed to the wall, moaning as he came. John swallowed as much as he could, mostly to make it easier to clean up.

"Oh, oh wow," Rodney said, slumping forward and grabbing John's shoulders. John held his waist to help steady him then tucked him back into his boxers.

"What about you?" Rodney asked, wide-eyed and gorgeously flushed and breathless. His hands were trembling slightly as he buttoned his pants.

"Later," John said, grinning smugly. He was rock hard but he had a head full of terrible things to take care of that, and he didn't mind waiting since he knew how Rodney would make it up to him.

"You sure?" Rodney asked, eyes flicking to the bulge in John's pants.

"Yeah. Don't worry about it. That was for you," John said. His smile had most likely gone sappy as hell but he was way too happy to mind it. He kissed Rodney again; slow and loving, then indulged himself by taking a moment to just hold him tight.

"I love you," he said, surprising himself. "Doesn't matter what you are."

"Thank you," Rodney said, and maybe his voice sounded a little thick. "God, John. You too. You know that, right? Always. Always."

"Yeah, I do," John said. Then he nuzzled Rodney's neck and breathed in the heat of his body, the salt of his sweat, and the faint, lingering scent of what they'd just done together.

Rodney, with an overlay of John; the way it was supposed to be.

END


End file.
